A Long Way Home
by GoWithTheFlo20
Summary: If Harry lived, if she hid, if she ran through time and space far enough, she would still lose in the end. She would never see their faces. Never plant another pansy. Never play with a caramel lock again. Never poke Ron's freckles. It was supposed to be over. The running and yet, here she was once more. Always Running. Kirk/Fem!Harry/Khan. BigBrotherSpock!
1. Chapter 1

**A.N:** Completely AU for both the Potterverse and Star trek rebootverse! You have been warned! I have completely gone off the tracks laid down here so expect a bumpy ride.

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 **Chapter one:**  
 **A Man called Q.**

The fragmented pieces of the claustrophobic, encompassed world around her pierced Harry's subconscious mind like needles into a straw doll. Sharp, pinching and in a random pattern that she could not hesitate where the next blow, or rather, next sensory overload would come from. The results were the same, a flutter of long lashes against sharp, sweeping cheekbone, the dilation of an overblown pupil, the scrunch of a nose that spoke of dizzying confusion for the split seconds one lingered between the waking world and the land of obtuse sleep. Trapped. Everything felt trapped.

 _"Are you sure? I've known Harry since we were eleven and... Yes, while I agree her... Features are a bit more than exotic, assumedly from mixed breeding on her father's magical side, to say something so... To come to such a conclusion... I mean... She's just like me!"_

The smooth, white-washed opaque walls of the cryo-pod she was stashed in were bathed in a soft, neon blue light that flickered in split second intervals, fractions, a wave, like a tide lapping at the rocky shore. Something heavy, chunky in a way... Bound in clothe... Her bag lay crammed at her feet, pinning her to the bottom of the pod. However, despite the warm light, periwinkle like Dumbledore's eyes, Harry could only feel like this pod... cage, was nothing more than the jagged planks to her coffin, the pulsing light echoing the beat of a fading heart or the nails being hammered home. For that one moment when she was trapped between sleep and awareness, she had been sure she was dead... Again. Then her mind returned to her, not fully, but enough for Harry to gain her bearings, or at least, a footing in the world she now resided in. Three indisputable facts bubbled to the forefront of her mind.

 _"Look, Harry... These test's don't lie. I know, I've read them and re-read them and re-read them. If I thought they were trying to pull something over you, or if I thought it would stop those... Things from coming for you, you know I would be the first to act and stand by your side. But you can't argue with fact Harry. Hard, scientific truth. I've seen the results myself and you have to admit... They do explain your ea-"_

 _"Shut up Hermione."_

One; By now, she would be inevitable cruising through space. Actual, Merlin-given space. That was something to acclimatize herself to. Everyone she had known, had cared about, had loved, would be long dead. Nothing but mulch for the plant-life and broken bits of rotten bone... Perhaps reduced to nothing but a genetic code passed down from a descendant or two, but nothing more. And yet... Yet, she had only seen them yesterday, had seen their smiles, heard their laughter, seen life in all its magnificent sparkle in their eyes.

 _"Run Harry... Run and don't look back. Not for me. Not for Ron, not even for yourself. Run!"_

Then again, the ones she had cared about, the ones she would truly miss and remember to her dying day were the very same who had urged her to run, to hide, to escape and never look back. After all, it had been Hermione herself that had come up with this seemingly impossible plan to begin with, with a little help from someone she simply called Q. Extreme, unfathomable, improbable, against all logic... A plan that had no alternatives.

 _"If you don't go, Merlin knows what they'll do to you! Forget about us for one moment Harry and for once, think of your own life! You have to go... I don't want you to... I'll miss you... But you have to. You. Have. To."_

Two; Time travel of this magnitude left her mind pounding, frontal lobe tense and straining, tongue nothing but a heavy lump of flesh in her cotton coated mouth and her stomach swirling faster than a Boggart mid-transformation. Unfortunately for Harry, she knew, even in the state she was in, this awareness would not last for long and soon she would be pulled back under, only to awaken to likely worse feelings of upsetness and disturbance as well as having a hefty job to dive straight into... If you could call running and hiding from your abductors, hunters, a job.

 _"Are you sure we can trust this... Man... What was it you called him Hermione? Q? I mean... He doesn't even have a last name and by the sound of it, he just pops in and out when he wants to..."_

 _"I trust him, Harry, I trust him as much as I can but... But what other alternatives do you have? The safe houses don't work anymore. They'll track you eventually and the ministry... No, wizarding Britain has done all it can against them and we've all come up short... So very short against these... Things. He's offering an out and I think... I don't think you or we have a choice."_

Three; If by some miracle the newly minted and equally fake identity file Hermione had programmed into a chip of... Glass, it looked like glass, an object this mysterious Q had given her, worked, if Harry did not die in this coffin masquerading as a cryo-bed, if she managed to integrate and hide in this foreign place and even more alien time, she would then need to keep hidden long enough to find who she had been sent to find and hope no others came chasing after her. Who was she kidding? They would come. They always came... But if she managed all that and if this Q was to be believed, which Hermione promised he should be, she might... Just might once again pull through this with her heartbeat intact and perhaps, hopefully, please let it not be a lie and be true, she may meet the family she had been denied, she could... Perhaps... Create a home. A real home with real family.

 _"Damn Hermione, are you sure that's a time turner? It looks more like a bloody nuclear bomb!"_

 _"I swear I should have never shown you that documentary... Of course I'm sure Ron, would I give it to Harry to use if I didn't think it was safe? Granted... I don't know half the things on here, or what they do and I don't know why it glows blue but Q guaranteed to me it would work and I-"_

 _"It's okay Hermione. Honestly. After all, what choice do I have? They nearly caught me last time... Sometimes I wish Voldemort had finished the job while he could have."_

 _"Don't say that Harry!"_

 _"Well, if he had, none of this would have come to light and we... I... Things could have been normal."_

Nevertheless, there were too many perhaps, maybes and variables for Harry to feel confident let alone comfortable with this plan of absurd action, and in so, for that particular outcome to be nothing but the remnants of a childish dream. A childish dream that Harry, stuck in this box, away from all she had ever known, stranded, never to return, forced to try the impossible, clung to in a desperation that rivaled any last stand.

 _"Well, well, well, if it isn't little miss fairy. Or is it a goblin? Troll perhaps? I wouldn't be surprised. The Potters are known to sleep with anything that walks on two legs... Then again, four too if you take into account the rumors of your father and that blood traitor Sirius Bla-"_

 _"Sod off Malfoy before I permanantly shut you up. Then we'll see who the bloody fairy is."_

She was sure she hadn't meant to have awoken yet, at least, that is what the shady, oddly ridged faced behemoth of a man... She thought he was a man, had told her on what appeared to be a docking bay of somekind, the place she had landed from that bloody time turner. But then again, that is likely what she deserves for going through improper channels and dealing with less than above board traders and transporters... She hoped he was a transporter otherwise she was in for a poor start to her journey. That being said, when you were about to undertake what she was, being found out too soon because one could not deal without one's creature comforts was a folly she wasn't willing to take, especially when so much laid on the line.

 _"Aunt Petunia... Why are my ears-"_

 _"Be quite Harry! And damn it girl, put the hat back on before anyone sees or you'll be spending the rest of the afternoon in your... Room."_

Still, the drugs and means of stasis these people used for prolonged sleep felt equal to the mass extended time travel that shouldn't have been possible to her nervous system and brain. In short, Harry felt more jumbled than if Peeve's were to cling onto her head and rattle it around like a cocktail maker for an hour straight. Merlin, she was going to vomit.

 _"Freak! Freak! Freak! Look mummy! The freak even bleeds green! Arrrrgh, get off me you gremlin! Mum, help! It's attacking me!"_

 _"Get off him!"_

Dizzy, Harry's hand came up to the side of her small enclosure. Nimble, pale, long fingers sliding against the side panel of the cryo-pod. Smooth, frigid to the touch with slight wear to the farthest right corner, the rusted metal peeping through the pleasant gloss covering from over-use and wear. Idly, she deftly ran her fingers across the surface. The gloss, while partly known, still felt different, slightly jellied. Unique. Strange. Alien... Just like her.

 _"It's not fairy blood, is it? Troll? Goblin? Dammit, Hermione, I would take inferi right now."_

 _"No... No, the healers... They haven't seen it before. They think it's perhaps how you survived the killing curse... Twice. They want to run more tests Harry but... But there's been another attack. It was... Them again. They're looking for you. The orders planning to move you to a more secure location tomorrow afternoon and then hopefully the healers can get down to real work and figure all this out."_

She had always been a tactile person. No one would dispute that, even herself. As a child she would spend hours planting aunt Petunia's flower beds, letting the summer sun soak in as much as she could, cold even as it heavily beat down upon her at noon. However, that was not an oddity for her, she was always cold, always. She took long not because the task was arduous, or presumably to perfect the flower beds, but because it gave her the fleeting chance to get to do what she often couldn't. Simply... Feel.

 _"Get off me... No more... No more... I'll kill you... I'll fucking kill you..."_

 _"Bloody hell. It's me, Harry, it's Ron and Hermione. We're getting you out of here, they won't get you again."_

Her fingertips would brush the melancholy pansy petals, forefinger running up and down the stubborn stems, pinching the cheeky leaves, fingers buried up to her knuckles so she could feel the newly tilled teasing, damp, cloying dirt as she wiggled the appendages. Touch was an important sense to her, one she hoarded, guarded almost rabidly, but used with an excited abandonment that seemed almost improper to the clueless observer.

 _"I... I had a visitor yesterday Harry. He just... Apparated in. He didn't say much, just joked really, but he seems willing to help and oddly he knows far more about your... Case than is possible for an outsider. He... He was dressed as if ready for a Tudor court. He said he's names Q."_

Hogwarts had only offered more to touch, to feel, to absorb and ponder in awe. Some good, most bad. Strangely enough, Hermione's hair had been one of her favorites to fumble with, to twist the curls around and tug, feel the silk slide, to feel each strand separated when she rubbed and stroked a lock until, of course, Hermione would bat her hand away with an exasperated smile of indulgence. The feeling she got, the warmth that blossomed in her chest, danced on the nerves of her mind like a flutter of a paper wing, would never be forgotten. Comfort, easy happiness, peace, that of which Harry imagined a child or infant would feel when their mother or father would brush away their hair as they tumbled off to sleep, safely wrapped in the conclave of their loving arms. She had tried it with Ron once, but the feeling had not been the same, all she had felt was annoyance, a prickling sting behind her eyes like nips from ants. She hadn't tried again and now it was too late. They were gone... They were gone.

 _"We'll be fine Harry. it's you they want, it's you that needs to run, we... We'll be fine. Now, come on, Q gave me this map, you should see it Harry, I recognize none of the stars and-"_

 _"Hermione? Don't... Don't ever change."_

 _"I won't Harry. I won't if you won't."_

 _"Oi, what about me?"_

 _"Perhaps you could learn to chew with your mouth closed Ron."_

 _"Cheers mate. Really."_

Even if she lived, if she hid, if she ran through time and space far enough, she would still lose in the end. She would never see their faces. Never plant another pansy. Never play with a caramel lock again. Never poke Ron's freckles. It was supposed to be over. The running. She was supposed to fight Voldemort and if she won, she was supposed to live a happy, normal life with her friends. Now she was three-hundred years and a few galaxies away. And what for? How did she get where she was? Was it a time she could pinpoint or was it before her memory kicked into gear? How did she end up back when she did, with the Potters... Well, that was the answers she wasn't sure she wanted to know. However, for her own survival, find the truth she had to, whether she was ready for it or not.

 _"Are you bloody saying I'm an alien?!"_

 _"No Harry... Not quite. No! What I'm saying is your blood, what we originally thought was fairy dormant genes becoming dominant is... In fact, foreign to us. Foreign to earth..."_

 _"That sounds dangerously like 'you're an alien Harry'."_

 _"Was the Hagrid impersonation really necessary?"_

Harry's hand slipped from the side panel. What she wouldn't do for a window right now. For, while she was perhaps too textile or 'touchy-feely' as Ron would call it for society norms, she was equally observant, and seen as she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, her curiosity was piqued and she needed something, anything to focus on to combat her warring mind, lost between the crushing present and broken past. She wondered who else was onboard this vessel. The rigid, bulky man was the first and only alien she had seen so far, were there more? Of course there were, if not, she wouldn't be in the predicament she was in now.

 _"I just... I just need some time. It's... It's a lot to take in. I don't... I think... No... Time. I need time."_

 _"Take all the time you want dear, you know where we are if you need us."_

 _"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley... Thank you."_

Still, she wished, by Merlin did she wish she had a window, if nothing but to look out into space. Real space. No telescope, no machine, no pixelated printout image. Real, undiluted space, right there, almost in touching distance. Would there be planets? Giants like Jupiter with speckled and marble-esque faces? Would there be stars? Red giants that lay in the wake of their oncoming death? Or white newborns, hot and temperamental, pulsating with the gift of life?... Or would it be baron, a void of darkness with a few traveling, frosty asteroids as their only guiding compass?

 _"You watching the stars again?"_

 _"It's called stargazing Ron, a common past time for muggles. I've done it since I could remember. Do you... Do you ever wonder what it would be like to touch a star?"_

 _"Get a nasty burn I'd reckon. Now come on, my mom will have a fit if we're not asleep soon and end up late to our third year."_

 _"I don't require as much sleep as-"_

 _"Yeah, yeah, you don't need as much sleep as me. You should thank whatever creature gave you those bloody eyebrows. I'm knackered after that game of quidditch. Slytherin is going to crash and burn this year if you play like that again."_

What she wouldn't have given to touch a star, even now, so close, closer than many have or would ever be to one, the victory felt bitter on her tongue, acidic, like a crushed cyanide pill. To be so close... And she only had to give up all she had known, her friends, her world. She wondered if they had lived happy lives. Was there red-heads out there with Hermione's eyes and Ron's freckles or Ron's eyes and Hermione's button nose? Oddly, she tried to picture her two friends old, withered, gray, but with wrinkles in all the right places, around the mouth, shouting out to the world the happy, smile filled lives they lived as a brood of boisterous, obnoxiously smart children and grandchildren swarmed them. Something hot and wet trickled down her cheek, tickling her top lip. She was crying... Why was she crying? She didn't know, as soon as the thoughts came, they went just as fast and Harry couldn't keep up. In this foggy place, lost, she could only... Feel.

 _"Think Harry... What have you always wanted? A family! This is your chance. If Q's right, if you really were taken by... Those things, then that means they're likely still out there! Not only that but if we get you back, if Q pulls through and gives us this device, not only do you have to stop hiding, you can find a... Find your family! Isn't this what you wanted?"_

 _"But... But you're my family. I... I don't want to loose you."_

 _"Oh, Harry. You'll never loose us. You'll just... You'll just gain more. We'll always be with you, in your heart and mind. All you have to do is remember and we'll be there."_

 _"I'll miss you Mr. Weasley."_

Something close but outside her pod whined, like an industrial fan turning on and Harry realized her brain was slowing down, chugging, winding, concentration, the little she had, lagging. Hopes, dreams, thoughts, they were all painted in the same rosy tint, concealing which was which. It all felt too real, felt like it was all happening now, she was everywhere at once and yet nowhere, locked in her body. It hurt too much, dulling none of the aches these torments created, like salt into a weeping wound. Scarring.

Positive.

She had to stay positive. It's the one good thing she knew how to do. If Hermione was right, if the tests they had run on her were correct and not some horrendously poor joke, if this Q was to be believed... Dammit, if her own appearance was to be taken into account, then, if she got to her destination and the calculations of the time turner had been correct, they were, she had double and triple checked, she would be less alone than she had been her entire life. She... Wasn't... Alone. Family. Hope. Those repressed dreams and wishes... They were possible. She just had to believe, had to keep pushing on. There was no other option.

 _"My mom says you're a changeling left by the fairies and changelings are bad. Which makes my mom and dad even better people for taking you in when they did. So, you should give me that seashell and do as I say!"_

 _"Go away Dudley, it's mine, I found it! You told me the other day finders keepers... So by your own logic, it's mine!"_

If only her uncle Vernon knew right now... Back then? Whenever, how right he was when he called her a misbegotten goblin that should go back to where it came from. Perhaps, for once, he would be proud of her for doing what he said with minimal complaint.

 _"Get out of my sight girl. Petunia, dear, put it back where it belongs! I have guests coming around. Who knows what they'll think if they see it lurking around!"_

 _"I'm not an it or a goblin! My names Harry!"_

The fan noise thumped even louder. Lost as she was in her own drugged mind, fractured, sleepy, Harry began to fade from consciousness once more. The weight of her thoughts, her hopes, the last year of her life since Voldemort's downfall, pushed her down harder, swirling, like water down a drainpipe. Her last slightly coherent thought was that of Hermione's smiling face, presenting to her a map Q had given her, excitedly pointing to what just looked like a splodge of white against the blue, black and purple space, Hermione's voice reverberating around her skull as her face drooped. Blindly, her hand came up to her ears, fiddling with the tip as sleep began to invade her, conquering.

Harry's mouth numbly repeated the word, the sharp consonants bouncing off the interior of the cryo-bed, echoing, haunting, teasing her, staying in the air like a perfume cloud even as her eyes began to shut and her hand fell from her ears. Would this be enough? It had to be... It had to be. She'd been fixing others mistakes for far too long.

The ship tugged along, to the very world Harry had been sleepily muttering. She may not know where she was going, where her life was heading, but then again, how could one when they did not even know where they had begun? Home. She was going home. Back to the beginning.

"Vu-... Vul-... Vulcan."

 _"Look Harry! That's where Q says your DNA comes from... Where you come from! To us, it's M-23345, but he has a name! He says it's called Vulcan... Like the Roman god, Vulcan the god of volcanoes, it fits with your temperament. Isn't this brilliant?"_

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 **NEXT CHAPTER:  
**

"I wasn't expecting you to be here today son."

Amanda watched the slight elevation of her son's left eyebrow. A tick he had since early childhood. She knew all of them by heart, she had to when these little twitches and micro-expressions were the only window into the window of his mind, her only view into his thoughts. Yet, she would never change that, nor him, even for the brightest of earth children's smiles. Her son was just as emotive as any other, Vulcan's as a whole were she had found, you just had to look deeper. God knows Sarek, her husband, could be a drama queen when he wanted to be. You just had to read between the lines.

"To believe I would not arrive here today and be present would be illogical if you take into account my previous visitations on this particu-"

Amanda cut her son off with a soft palm on his broad shoulder. He didn't shake her off, nor did he embrace her. Oh, how he had grown. Each time he came back from the Academy, he was taller, broader... Older. Would she have been tall? Or would she have taken after- No. Those thoughts only lead to pain. Today was not for pain. Today was for reflection. Hope. Remembrance of what was important. Her fingers curled and clenched on her son's shoulder.

"I know Spock. I know. You'll have to forgive me... My mind often wonders around this date and my words fail me. I only mean to say it is good to see you son."

Good to see him when I am denied seeing her again... That... That was left unsaid, falling between the cracks and lines of her words, hidden, forgotten. She should move, should usher her son in, should begin mid-noon lunch and steam the tea. Sarek would be home soon, back from his visit to the place she would no longer go, no longer think of, a pilgrimage he would do each year, on this very day, with the strength she could not gather herself.

She knows she should go, she should face that dark memory, each year she promises, and yet when the sun rises, she fails... Once more she fails like that night many years ago. How many years now? Seventeen. A lump formed in her throat at the revelation. Seventeen years. Gone. Smashed. Destroyed. She should move but she can't. There was so much she should do, should say, should act, and yet it all fell in those damned cracks. Lost. Missed. Spock's hand came up to hers, palm stalling hair-breadth away from hers before it slipped on, his long fingers curling around her frail hand but not to move it, but to simply squeeze and hold it there. Such an act of affection, one so blatant, was not often bestowed upon her by her son and the sight, the feel, warmed her more deeply than the Vulcan sun ever could. Her vision blurred as Spock ushered her into the house, quietly closing the door behind him.

Her words and actions may fall short, may disappear in the back of her throat, may vanish in those horrid cracks, but her sons? Spock's was loud and clear, and so was her husband's actions, his pre-dawn trip each year on this day, all saying what she, the emotional human, never could bring to pass her lips. To know they felt the same, even when she couldn't speak of it, speak of that day, was all the comfort she needed. Yes, it was loud and clear.

 _We miss her too._

It was all between the lines.

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 **A.N:** So... Good, bad? Crystal meth in written form? Trust me, I don't know either! This idea just hit me and I wanted to explore it. XD Yes, I know the first chapter is a bit jumbled, but I wanted it that way, as Harry herself is jumbled and scattered and I wanted that to come through in the writing. Will I continue? I have the next chapter partially written but I'm not sure, as I said, this just came out of nowhere and hit me like a truck. Thoughts on whether I should continue this or jump the sinking ship are more than welcome!

Thank you to everyone who took time out to read... Whatever this is XD if you have a spare moment, leave a review? And I hope you are looking forward to reading this as much as I'm itching to write the rest of it!

 **To my faithful readers of my other stories!** Fear not, I am working on them and new chapters should be posted soon. I know I've been gone a long time, but there was some personal matters, rather upsetting ones I don't want to get into, that came first. I should be back into my groove very soon though!

Until next time~ GoWithTheFlo20


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two:**

 **Ghosts of what was and what will be.**

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The door to her home swished shut as her husband left for his morning journey. Amanda stood on the balcony of their home, hands braced against the smooth tawny stone that stopped one from falling over the edge. A home they had created together. A home she had laughed in. A home she had cried tears of joy in. A home she had slept soundly in. A home she had raised her son in. A home she had taught him in. A home she had watched him grow with alarming speed, or the reluctance of passing time all mothers hated. It was also a home she had felt loss she would wish upon no other being in existence.

Her own gaze, mind lost far away to lands less visited, traveled down to her hands. With Spock, her son, she could remember the smallest of details, almost with eidetic clarity. With... With _her_ , All she had was questions, phantoms of memories, perhaps too hurtful to pull forward to her mind's eye clearly unlike her son.

She remembered Spock's hands, small, newborn, chubby with indented knuckles. She remembered how they were the last she saw of him, six months ago, thin, strong boned, long-fingered, slender but holding a masculine strength to the digits that beguiled their feminine attributes. Amanda wondered if _her's_ would be like Spock's, pale, nimble, like her fathers, like Sarek's. Or would they be like Amanda's, broader, no less delicate, but more rounded?

Amanda's eyes clenched as she swore she could feel a hand, small, so warm, fresh from callouses... A babies hand, wrap around her index finger and tug like it had all those years ago. Phantoms. Ghosts. Gone. Her back stiffened, her shoulders concaved on themselves and her head flopped down before she could regather her bearings. No. She would not cry. Not today. No more tears. What was done, was done.

Pushing more harshly than she anticipated away from the stone wall, Amanda straightened herself out and turned her back on the rising, boiling sun of Vulcan, slipping back into the refreshing shade of her home. Trying to rest her weary thoughts on things she could control, things that would not leave her sobbing, Amanda wondered into her kitchen, beginning to prepare the fresh vegetables she had bought the previous day for noon-meal. Of course, she could always use a replicator, but today... Today she wanted... No, she needed to do something with her hands. Cooking, as mundane, archaic and arbitrary as it sounded, was one of Amanda's favorite past times.

She remembered a time when her son would stand beside her, watching, absorbing all he could like he often did with everything and anything around him as a child, infinitely curious, despite the blank slate of a face only she seemed to be able to read so openly. He would stand just there, to her left, the very tip of his head just brushing past her midribs, hands clasped behind his back as he studied her movements with the knife or spoon or other utensils foreign to Vulcan she had brought with her from her home world. He was taller now, shoulder and head above her own measly height, probably even taller than his father by now.

How tall would _she_ be if she was still here? Towering like her son? or tittering on the shorter side like her? Amanda didn't know... She didn't know and it killed her painfully slow. All Amanda could remember was the weight of a newborn on her chest, curled in her arms, staring up at the night sky, babbling away at the twinkling lights that shined down. Spock had never babbled, but _her_? As soon as the sun sank into the horizon, as soon as the first few pinpricks of white light glistened in the sky, it took all for Amanda and Sarek to keep her away from them. Who was she kidding? In the end, they always caved, or more aptly, Sarek would cave, pick _her_ up and take her out onto the balcony, whispering under his breath to the babe, of what? Amanda wasn't sure, and more often than not, _she_ would fall sleep babbling incoherently away in equal ardor to her father, staring at the sky in awe and wonder, perched safely at her father's chest.

 _She had loved those twinkling stars._

The knife she was holding clattered to the stone worktop of her kitchen, breaking Amanda from the spell of a treasured memory she couldn't often bring herself to indulge in. Odd, wasn't it? How precious memories are often the tools we used to hurt ourselves with? Fortunately, before the weight and hurt and sorrow in her chest could implode and supernova, the jangle of the door alarm flittered through the air, brushing passed the shell of Amanda's ear. Trying fruitlessly to swallow the charring lump trapped in her throat, Amanda brushed her hands off clumsily on her dress, skittering to the front door to answer the call and with a shaky hand, Amanda pressed the open key.

She knew she shouldn't have been surprised at who greeted her on the other side. He came every year, without fail, on this very day, no matter how busy his schedule must have been. And still, the sight of him, of her precious boy, so grown, so tall, so very much everything she remembers, always caused her heart to stuttered a beat. He was still here. Amanda had not failed him like she had _her._

"I wasn't expecting you to be here today son."

Amanda watched the slight elevation of her son's left eyebrow. A tick he had since early childhood. She knew all of them by heart, she had to when these little twitches and micro-expressions were the only window into his mind, her only view into his thoughts. Yet, she would never change that, nor him, even for the brightest of earth children's smiles. Her son was just as emotive as any other, Vulcan's as a whole were she had found, you just had to look deeper. God knows Sarek could be a drama queen when he wanted to be. You just had to read between the lines.

"To believe I would not be present today would be illogical if you take into account my previous visitations on this particu-"

Amanda cut her son off with a soft palm on his broad shoulder. He didn't shake her off, nor did he embrace her. Oh, how he had grown. Each time he came back from the Academy, he was taller, broader... Older. What would that new life she and Sarek had created look like with time twisting and morphing her features? Would she have her father's jaw or- No. Those thoughts only lead to pain. Today was not for pain. Today was for reflection. Hope. Remembrance of what was important. Her fingers curled and clenched on her son's shoulder.

"I know Spock. I know. You'll have to forgive me... My mind often wonders around this date and my words fail me. I only mean to say it is good to see you son."

Good to see him when I am denied seeing her again... That... That was left unsaid, falling between the cracks and lines of her words, hidden, forgotten. She should move, should usher her son in, should begin mid-noon lunch and steam the tea. Sarek would be home soon, back from his visit to the place she would no longer go, no longer think of, a pilgrimage he would do each year, on this very day, with the strength she could not gather herself.

She knows she should go, she should face that dark memory, each year she promises, and yet when the sun rises, she fails... Once more she fails like that night many years ago. How many years now? Seventeen. A lump formed in her throat at the revelation. Seventeen years. Gone. Smashed. Destroyed. She should move but she can't. There was so much she should do, should say, should act, and yet it all fell in those damned cracks. Lost. Missed. Spock's hand came up to hers, palm stalling hair-breadth away from hers before it slipped on, his long fingers curling around her frail hand but not to move it, but to simply squeeze and hold it there. Such an act of affection, one so blatant, was not often bestowed upon her by her son and the sight, the feel, warmed her more deeply than the Vulcan sun ever could. Her vision blurred as Spock ushered her into the house, quietly closing the door behind him.

Her words and actions may fall short, may disappear in the back of her throat, may vanish in those horrid cracks, but her sons? Spock's was loud and clear, and so was her husband's actions, his pre-dawn trip each year on this day, all saying what she, the emotional human, never could bring to pass her lips. To know they felt the same, even when she couldn't speak of it, speak of that day, was all the comfort she needed. Yes, it was loud and clear.

 _We miss her too._

* * *

Noon-meal that day proved to be a short affair with an abrupt ending. It had started as it had every other day, the only difference being her son's presence. Sarek arrived home the exact time he had told her he would be back, the Plomeek soup bubbling and already in it's serving bowls on the table, Kreyla freshly baked and creating an aroma that Amanda found comforting, each bowl with their own side of T'mirak. Spock and Sarek had greeted each other politely, albeit, formally. An act that grew tenser each year since Spock's diversion of the Vulcan science academy to Starfleet. Amanda had ushered the two to their cooling food and the family had quietly sat and peacefully ate.

Of course, that had been up until the mid-way point of their meal. Normally, this time of year, that date to be exact, both Amanda and Sarek informed both their respective workplace, friends and family members, of their 'sabbatical'. If you could call a day of mourning and reflection a sabbatical. Thankfully, all those informed respected the day's tranquility, often pushing back workloads until the next day. It was a tradition at this point. A day for family. For her, Spock and Sarek and no one else, nothing else. A tradition that had been going on for seventeen years now. A tradition not broken... Until that day.

Sarek's pad bleeped and rang of an incoming comm communication. Amanda, spoon halfway paused to her mouth, had shaken off the sense of... Unease. Perhaps there was a new trainee at the embassy, one who didn't know of their day of solitude. That was all. Or, rather, that was all it was to her until her own pad sang a tune of annoyance. She had promptly dropped her spoon into her bowl and snatched her pad up, confusion drawing her eyebrows close, puckering, when she saw the transmission was from the security division ShiKahr docking bay and, more worryingly, she had seven missed comm's from T'Solik.

Her heart had frozen, crystalizing in her chest, scarring her lungs and shrinking her organs. T'Solik. He was the chief investigator of her daughters... Case. There would be only one reason he would be trying to get in touch, and so urgently at that. Funnily enough, for a teacher who had taught for over two decades and xenolinguistics who prided herself on perfectly remembering exactly 24 languages and all their nuances, she couldn't fully remember nor compute how she had exactly gone from her home, eating something as ordinary as noon-meal, to standing outside ShiKahr's security division, her husband and son already in the tall building's belly, shadowed and free from the blistering sun. Why was she outside again?

Air. She needed air. She needed to breathe. She foggily remembered Sarek answering his comm rather courtly, bordering on rude even in human standards. She remembered a conversation, fragments, words that didn't fit or wouldn't squeeze into her mind. An alert, something about a D.N.A sample and a request for their presence. Then she was here, waiting outside the building, Sarek asking her if she was sure she wanted to wait outside, her numbly nodding, not able to bring words to pass her lips.

Amanda wearily blinked, stumbled away a step or two from the main entrance and tried to breathe. Simply breath. She felt dizzy, off edge, her insides a knot of squirming leeches sucking the very life from her. After all this time...

The world around her just began to swim, her vision blurring around the edges, seconds away from fainting when two hands, long fingered, thin, gently grasped her biceps and steadied her when she was sure it was the planet moving and not her feet.

"Hey... Hey, breath. That's it, nice and easy. In and out. Do you want to sit, you're looking unsteady... Wait. There's nowhere to sit... shit. Are you with anyone? Someone I can bring to you? You're really pale."

Amanda couldn't focus, not fully in the beginning moments. However, the voice was genial, husky around the edges, a voice that didn't order you to follow, but one that made you want to. A teasing lilt tuned the stranger's voice, a melody that spoke of friendly banter with a heavy earth accent, one of the heaviest she had heard in a very long time. British, if she was correct. Ah. Another human. That would explain their ease with coming to her aid rather than letting her drop to the floor or ordering her to lay down with a two-minute long spiel on how it was the best course of action.

Regaining her bearings, the stranger let her go once she was steady enough, but from the radiating warmth of their hands, they stayed close just in case. Strange. Human's weren't normally so warm. Amanda pushed the incessant thoughts back. She had more important, life changing things to focus on right now. A strangers temperature was at the bottom of that list, or, should be in any case. Running a tired hand down her face, Amanda started speaking, rambling more like it, only looking up and into the kind strangers face once her own hand slipped back to her side uselessly.

"I'm fine... I'm okay... Just a dizzy spell from the heat. Thank you. You really didn't have to-"

Amanda's tongue flopped in her mouth. Sarek. That was her first thought... Her only thought when she looked into the stranger's eyes. Green, a shamrock spring circled in emerald and speckled with flecks of ripe pear. She would know those eyes anywhere. She had stared into them during their bonding. She had glared at them during their numerous arguments. She had gazed into them only moments prior, assuring him she would be fine alone, to go in without her because she wasn't sure she could ever gain the courage to either get confirmation of her nightmares, or a spark to her long dead and withered hope.

like pieces of a long forgotten memory, or dream, Amanda slowly and ungracefully jammed together the rest of the stranger, but her focus was never far from those eyes... Those damned eyes. The stranger was irrevocably female, taller than Amanda by a good half a head, perhaps a full one by the way Amanda had to angle her neck. She was dressed simply, plainly, burnt beiges and amber creams, almost blending her into the rocky, mountainous landscape of Vulcan itself. The style was Vulcan, a basic set of silken collared tunic that skimmed thighs and thin trousers tucked into sehlat hide boots. Airy, light, embroidery kept to a minimum.

She was thin, not grotesquely so, but more willowy than curvy, but those soft swerves and scoops still hinted through her plain clothing. Her hair was black, inky, a mass the woman... Girl, she looked young, so very young, had somehow managed to wrangle into a french braid that swung between her shoulder blades, ending in a puff of curls as well as a few locks escaping to twirl around her face. Amanda felt like laughing, deliriously, she had never seen a Vulcan with curls before and really, if what she saw in other parts of the girl's features weren't so pronounced, she would take the girl for the human she spoke and acted like.

Nevertheless, she saw them. How could she not when they were so pronounced? The plains of her face were sharp, angled, carved from marble, a set of cheekbones that even human models found hard to biologically acquire. The upturn, button shape of her nose the only sign of softness on her face, the rest screamed feline. Even her brows, while thin enough for the shape of her face, were still arching, slicing lines. Female Vulcan's, most at any rate, had a softer brow than their male counterparts, more delicately swooping. This girl's eyebrows were very, very much Vulcan. She could give her son Spock a run for his money.

If that wasn't enough to scream of her heritage, then the soft green blush dusting her cheeks did, as wells as the hint of green ghosting along the bridge of her nose, a hint of sunburn, blending into the green-hued blush. It was definitely Vulcan blood that ran through her veins.

And her ears... Back in the time before Surak, Vulcan's would take the length and sharpness of one's ear points as a bold statement of one's standing in society and by the way this girls points, thin and sweeping, softly curled slightly around her head, but still stood proud, she would have been nobility. Then she smiled, wide, toothy, blindingly, dimples appearing on her cheeks and Amanda felt like fainting again.

"Right, well, if you're sure you're okay. Hey, I don't suppose you can help me out? Do you know where the human embassy is? I was told it was in ShiKahr and I've been wondering around for hours and I'm pretty sure I've got sand where there should never be sand. Stating I'm bloody lost is putting it mildly."

Amanda's mouth opened... And closed. Then, only to repeat the action once more, twice more. Thrice.

"Mother, they wish to speak to you now."

Amanda's neck twinged by the force she used to snap around to see Spock behind her. Dazed, Amanda turned back to where she was facing and was greeted with... Nothing. Gone. She was gone. The Vulcan girl with Sarek's eyes and Amanda's own nose and Spock's eyebrows was gone. Where before words refused to come, now they rippled out of her mouth like a babbling brook. Where she was once frozen, she now leapt into action with energy she didn't know her aging bones still housed. Spinning around, she searched the area, trying to peak through the small crowds going about their business. Nothing. Vanished.

"Did you see her? Did you see her Spock? She was right here! She was here... Right in front of me. T'Hara-"

Just as she was about to run down the steps of the building and into the crowd to search, a strong hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her to a stop, Spocks face bearing down on her, worry and weariness rippling under the stone surface.

"I saw no one. Mother, are you well? Your pallor has considerably paled and your pulse is beating faster than required in these conditi-"

The rest of what Spock said was lost on her. She felt numb. Jaded. Cold. Had she imagined it? Just like that hand upon hers on the balcony? Like the phantom of a baby pressed against her breast? Today... It was today playing tricks on her. It always did. Granted, this was a flamboyant turn and trick of mind but that was all it was. All it could be. A trick. Amanda tried to swallow back the tears, tried to straighten her spine, tried to compose herself, but trying never meant success. So, with all she had left, she nodded, smiled at her son and made her way back to the entrance of the security division.

"I'm fine Spock... I'm fine. I thought I saw... It looked like T'Har-...Well. Just ghost's son. Just ghosts. Shall we go then? In my time here I've learned how poorly Vulcans take to waiting."

She couldn't bring herself to look into her son's eyes, to lie straight to his face. She was far from fine. But, perhaps, if she pretended enough, it would one day be truth. By the underlying tinge to Spock's voice, he bought it as much as she had. Not at all.

"That would be wise mother."

* * *

"I... I don't understand..."

Amanda's voice quivered, a shake that seemed to be stubborn enough to stay with her all day at this rate. Amanda had always prized her 'human' emotions. Her openness to feel and be. There was a certain strength to it, to face one's own feelings and weather them, to be strong enough to stand tall under their weight. Right now, however, she would do anything, say anything, to have even but a fraction of her husband's, Spock's, Vulcan's iron grip and restraint on their own inner turmoil. To be able to compartmentalize and lock away the storm inside her, for just a second or two's rest bite... But she couldn't, and so she would face the storm inside herself... She had never felt so alone.

She was sitting in a secured office, glass doors locked and artificially fogged for privacy. Javin, the senior officer that had been the one to call them in sitting behind his own desk. Sarek was seated in the chair beside her, back straight, hands folded in his lap, perched in the only other seat free and Spock was standing behind them, tall, hands clasped behind his back, as if ready to take orders from a Starfleet admiral. And here she was, slumped, worn out, hands cradling her face, staring resolutely at the shiny, polished tiled floor. She could feel the bags under her eyes, feel the quake to her bones, the sting to her eyes, the gnawing on her bottom lip.

She was barely holding it together and Sarek looked ready to set out for another diplomatic meeting upon a split second notice. Javin gave no indication of understanding the emotional tsunami he had just unleashed upon them, upon her, as he answered her rhetorical question.

"I shall repeat myself. Today at 1100 hours a passenger aboard the frigget known as Wind-cutter passed through our security system on visitation to Vulcan. The guard ran through protocol as regulation dictates. However, when her I.D chip stated she was already a citizen of Vulcan, coupled with her... Peculiar behavior of one of our race, he ran through a simple D.N.A match to secure the knowledge she was, in fact, the person she was claiming to be and not an infiltrator from Romulan space as been known to happen in the past. When the D.N.A sequencing passed, he let her leave. However, the system has been lagging this past week due to upgrades being done on the hub in Raal and the alert to report she was a missing person was delayed before her inevitable departure. We-"

Amanda was trembling. Not the shiver from a nip in the air. Neither was it a shake that rattled through muscles when over-worked. It was a deep, tumultuous tremble that rattled her very core. Her soul. Before, she could not settle on one emotion, flittering between all of the spectrum. Yet, here she was, finally able to lock onto one and it burned. Anger. Wrath. Rage.

"Are you saying my daughter... Our daughter... T'Harauk is here... Now? Right here and you let her walk away because the alert was too slow?!"

Javin's expression didn't change a fraction, not one twitch and it only made the fire inside of her burn hotter, brighter, faster, a black hole of undiluted flickering flames that threatened to not only eat her, but Javin too, this office, this building. Before she could lose the small grip on restraint she had left, however small that restraint was compared to the company of this room, Sarek chimed in.

"Amanda. Now is not the time for-"

"How... Sarek, how can you be so calm? Our daughter, She's here, alive, after all these years and you're just... you're just sitting here! We need to search, she could leave any moment... The Romulans... They could grab her again! We need to go, we need to go now and-"

It was almost like there was a mirror between her and Sarek, for just as she scrambled out of her chair to dash for the door, he regally stood from his own. Yet, their actions were the only similarity between them in that moment, the only thing that linked them, to the man who she had always believed to be her soulmate, standing up was the only thing they echoed as one in a situation where they needed to be together, not apart.

"Wife, please be calm. Searching the street is an inadequate way to find her. She could, in the time it has taken for us to convene, be anywhere, be on any transport. Yes, while your euphemism stating they simply 'let her walk away' is more than adequate for this situation..."

Sarek paused only to cut a look at Javin before slowly turning to face Amanda once more. To all people who didn't observe Vulcan's on a day to day basis, Sarek would seem serene, calm, blank, but she knew, she knew. She could see it as clear as day in that one, minuscule action. Sarek was pissed. Maybe they were on the same page after all.

"Simply walking around and, as you humans would say 'trying to bump' into her is equally a ridiculous notion."

Amanda stalled in her pacing, only realizing she had been moving when the movement halted, eyes growing wide when what Sarek had said sank into her brain. Trying to bump... Bumping. The Vulcan. The brilliant smile and dimples. The button nose that she had seen in the mirror reflected each morn. The strong jaw she had traced on her husband's face, the same eyes she stared into each day reflected back from a stranger... But that woman... Girl, was no stranger.

T'Harauk... Amanda would waste no more time. She had lost seventeen years, she wouldn't loose seventeen more. Faster than Sarek had ever seen Amanda move, she bolted for the door, smashing the button for it to open frantically. However, just as the swoosh rang out, as Amanda's calves tensed in preparation for a run, Spock was in front of her, in the doorway, blocking her way out, barricading her in.

"Mother, please, sit and breath. If this behaviour persists, an abrupt drop in consciousness is sure to follow-"

Amanda heaved herself away from the door, shaking her head in desperation. They were running out of time. Sarek had been right. She could be anywhere by now, with anyone, she could be going off world and here Amanda was, standing in a room, discussing what they should and shouldn't do. Now was not the time for words, it was the time for action. She wouldn't loose T'Harauk again. She couldn't. She wouldn't survive it, not now when hope had been offered.

"I... I saw her! Just outside this very building! I... I thought I was seeing things... Today being what it is... I thought... But it was her, I know it! And I... I let her walk away. Me. I let her leave... The human embassy! I know where she is!"

Amanda never thought she would ever praise or give thanks to the embassy's long queues, hour long waiting times and overall Andorian snail-paced schedule they kept. Yet here she was, beyond grateful. Today seemed a day of many firsts.

"Amanda, you are lacking chronological sense and bearings. Breath."

Amanda gave a shaky nod to Sarek's request, sucking in a deep breath, only then realizing her breath was coming in short pants, panic ridden. Slowly, ever so slowly, she managed to compose herself.

"While I was waiting outside, I felt faint. A Vulcan girl-... T'Harauk steadied me as I lost my balance. She... She said she was lost, looking for the human embassy and smiled Sarek. Smiled and I... Her eyes, they look just like yours and I thought I was seeing things, my mind playing tricks on the day she was taken from us. She asked where the human embassy was and I, confused, couldn't speak. Please, believe me, I thought I was seeing things. If I knew it was really her... Spock came and said you requested my presence. By the time I turned back around she was gone. She smiled Sarek. She smiled so brightly and I just let her leave. But if we hurry, if we go now she may still be there and I won't have failed again-"

Sarek cut her off, swivelling to face Javin still sat behind his desk, as if he was made from the very stone this building was.

"Comm through commander Javin. Relay the situation and ask for all Vulcans within the embassy at this time be held in comfortable situations until we can arrive. A simple gene test upon our arrival will either disprove the D.N.A sequencing as a faulty glitch or... Well. It's best we pursue all avenues and if this proves true, best she is in a safe situation until retrieval. Now, please, if you and Spock would indulge me, I need to talk to my wife alone. We will meet you at the embassy promptly."

Spock, her blessed son, never questioned, never stalled, sensing her own desperation for quickness, simply bowed and left through the door to go to the embassy, knowing time was not in their favor. Javin stood up and with a quick swipe of his cloak, marched for the door, paused, bowed to Sarek and spoke.

"Of course, Ambassador Sarek. I will endeavor to comply straight away. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life, commander Javin. But please... Make haste."

As he left through the door, just before it glided shut, she heard him comm through, passing along the orders. Then the door was shut and all was silent.

"Wife... Amanda. I could not help but hear you say you had failed like before. I do not understand this turn of phrase in accordance to this situation. Is it an idiom I have not yet understood?"

Amanda chuckled. The noise was clanky, cloggy, moist. She was crying. The tracks hot and sticky upon her cheeks.

"No... No Sarek. I... That day, you told me to stay indoors. You warned me to stay inside. Romulan infiltrators had breached the city and what did I do? I left. Not only did I leave, I took our infant daughter with me. And for what? To see the sunset on T'Paal Canyon? They took her and all I could do was watch. Watch as they snatched her out my arms, boarded a ship and left with her. The one thing I remember clearly about our daughter is her crying face as she reached for me. As they took her onto their warbird and the doors closed shut. They took our daughter and I couldn't stop them Sarek. If that is not what failure is, I don't know it's definition anymore. So, yes. I failed before and I refuse to fail again."

Then she felt it, not sure when he had snuck up on her, not sure of much this day. His hand, warm, soft, grazed her cheek, uncalloused thumb stroking away a tear track. It wasn't often Sarek touched her, but when he did, no matter how small a gesture, it always took her breath away. No. She wasn't alone this time. Not like that night so many years ago. She had Sarek this time. She had Spock. She wouldn't lose her daughter again. She looked up into his eyes. Eyes their daughter had. The sob wracked her chest in its brutal escape from the prison of her lungs.

"Amanda, your conclusion is illogical and faulty, as well as your perceivance of events and judgments of those around you. Yes, I asked you to stay inside, but no reason did I give to such a task. Only now, in hindsight, do you know it was because of Romulans. From my recollection of events and the med reports, you suffered grievous injury trying to keep our daughter away from such conditions. Four broken ribs. One dislocated shoulder. One disjointed kneecap. One sprained ankle. Five fractures, to the jaw, cheekbone, and skull. Severe Concussion and 10 bruises and cuts in total. All indicating the struggle you gave to an outnumbered fight with seven Romulan's. Do you know why I visit T'Paal canyon each year upon this day, barefoot?"

Amanda shook her head.

"It is a long arduous journey, totaling 4 hours and 27 minutes in walking distance. The same distance, while injured, exactly seventeen years ago, barefoot from losing your shoes in the fight, you walked alone, at night, to alert the authorities of the abduction... All the while I was in my office, working. It was not you who failed that day Wife."

Amanda's eyes slammed shut. Her breath jagged and cutting the soft tissue of her raw throat.

"You didn't fail Sarek. You couldn't have known-"

Sarek voice overrode her own.

"And neither could you. It is illogical to follow this thought pattern any further and a more pressing matter requires our undevided attention."

Sarek pulled away, the warmth was gone, the shadows of his mind ghosting over her own melting away from the break of contact and with resolve her husband was renowned for, he straightened out.

"Now, it is unproductive to ponder and question what has already been, when what will come to be is more important. The gene test needed is simple enough in equation, but requires both ours and Spocks blood to adequately receive a high percentage of probability-"

Now it was Amanda's turn to slice her voice over his.

"It's her Sarek. It's her. I saw her and if you did too, you would know also."

Sarek gave her a gentle nod as if expecting what she had said all along, before he even spoke himself.

"I know this. It is only a legal requirement to have T'Harauk's case filed away on the database. Otherwise, a large segment of time would be required to delegate to the closing of the case without the test present to assist in its closing. Time better used to reacquainting ourselves to and with T'Harauk and any other time needed in the healing, informing and gathering of-"

Amanda smiled brokenly through her tears. Sarek wasn't running the test now to prove the girl was his daughter, he trusted Amanda and the D.N.A already run on that face. No. He was doing it now to get it out of the way, to stop it from interrupting time he would better like being around his daughter. But first... First, they had to actually get to her in time.

"Oh, Sarek... Don't change."

The slight pivot of Sarek's head was the only indicator to his confusion.

"I do not understand why I would deny the option of change when change itself has been proven to be beneficial to not only oneself but that of civilizations-"

Amanda's laughter bounced off the stone walls, echoing slightly, making it feel like she wasn't the only person laughing but the universe joining in that little slice of happiness she had found. Or, idly Amanda thought, the bit of happiness that had found her. After all, it had been T'Harauk who had ran into her, not the other way around. Life, indeed, was a funny thing like that.

"Let's go get out daughter, shall we?"

Sarek paused from his permanently twirling and dancing thoughts before nodding, heading towards the door with Amanda not far behind him.

"Yes. We shall."

* * *

 **NEXT CHAPTER:**

"Here you go."

A bowl of liquid... slightly bubbly, like dish soap, same colour too, was placed on the table in front of her. Harry cast a quick glance between the woman who had recently entered, followed by two men, one obviously older than the taller of the two, and the bowl, with no further instruction. Without much thought, Harry dipped her hands in, beginning to scrub at the day's dust that had accumulated on her skin. A guffaw broke her out of her concentration and intense scrubbing.

Her hands were precious to her, though that sentence must sound odd, after all, weren't limbs precious to everyone? But her hands, well, even the slightest dirt, smudge or irritation would grind on her mind all day until she had a chance to scrub. Idly, her thumb ran over the scar Umbridge gave her. _I must not tell lies_. Without her meaning too, her hands clenched in the bubbly liquid. Looking up, trying to escape one of the many memories that haunted her, she saw the woman, red in the face, eyes wide, failing at holding her laughter in, or the shock dancing in her eyes.

"What? Is it rude to wash your hands too?"

The woman regained herself quickly and went back to the table in the far corner, pulling another bowl free and using a jug to pour more liquid into the bowl before snatching up a piece of cloth too. All three were dumped in front of Harry, a teasing look tugging at the corners of the poorly concealed smiled on the older woman's face.

"Oh, no. Not at all. But this is broth... Food. We don't normally wash our hands in food."

Harry felt the heat of a prominent blush sizzle the skin of her cheeks and neck. Glancing down at the new bowl given to her, the other taken away by the woman, Harry reluctantly picked up the cloth and tried to dry her hands off discreetly. Well, so far integrating seemed to be going stellar. She seemed to be in a quarantine of some sort and now she was basting herself in food. Well done, Harry. Well. Bloody. Done. The woman turned to face her full on, eyes wide, watching intently, scrutinizing her like the two men had since their eyes had landed on her from the get-go and for the first time since setting foot out of the cryo-pod, recognition struck.

"Well, that makes sense. Look. I don't know why I'm being kept here but if it's about that stall of... Fruit? I want to say fruit, that I knocked over, I promise, I'll pay for it. Wait... You're that woman I bumped into, aren't you? Well, if this is about that, if I've crossed some line or taboo in... Our... Mine? In Vulcan culture, I really didn't mean to and I apologize. Surely I don't need to be locked in here for much longer?"

* * *

 **A.N:** We are boldly going where even the writer has no clue where XD. So here's chapter two. I felt like a bit of a diversion from Harry's P.O.V and well, this popped out. Don't worry, Harry's back next chapter but I will likely switch between P.O.V's later on.

 **About This Chapter:** Harauk is actually a Vulcan name, meaning 'Amazing life'. I found it quite fitting, close to Harry's name and nabbed it XD. The places mentioned in this fic are all real Vulcan places, however, I'm not sure whether T'Paal really has a canyon or not, but hey, waving creative liscence here! Also, I know it's likely Vulcan's are actually cooler than human's, rather than warmer, and the change would only be slight, hence how they comfortably live on a hot planet and can withstand cold tempretures, but, again, I just wanted them to run hotter rather than cooler. I think it fits more with their characterization, because let's face it, they're hot-headed and blooded when they let go off all that logic. All this being said, I've only watched the films, done miniscule research and beginning to watch star trek next generation, so my facts and points in this story maybe a little off, but I'm trying my best to keep in cannon as much as possible with a fic where Harry turns out to be a Vulcan. I mean, come on, give me a little leave way here to make that seem it. makes a lick of sense XD. As for when Jim comes into play, it won't be for a little while yet. I want Harry established in this universe before even more whacky stuff starts taking place. But! But he is coming, soon!

I have no Beta so all mistakes are mine, I hold my hands up, that grammar mistake you saw? That misspelling that made you frown? It was my hands that did it. I promise I try to catch them all like some weird game of pokemon, but some do slip past me. I hope this doesn't bother too many.

 **TO ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE:** Thank you so much to those who reviewed, you're why I'm carrying this on and why I likely will continue to do so. A huge thank you to all those who followed and favourited. Are you guys likeing it so far? And to those simply reading, hugs to all of you! As always, please, for one review you will feed this poor fanfic writers muse. So, donate today ;) Any questions, ask away.

That's all for now, I'm done rambling, Scotty, beam me up! Until next time! ~GoWithTheFlo20


	3. Chapter 3

I know, a whole year since I last updated! To be honest, I needed a break and I had a lot of personal things going on that I had to work through. I hope you guys can forgive me, and I hope this chapter makes up for it! It's a whopping 10,000 words… So beware!

I was originally going to do this chapter in Harry's P.O.V, but I felt Amanda's just fit better and I wasn't quite done with her yet, so I swapped over. Don't worry, Harry's P.O.V is coming up soon.

* * *

 **Chapter three:**

 **I made it home.**

* * *

Amanda's P.O.V

They found her in the seventh private inquisition room they visited in the human embassy. She was standing at the far side of the room, beyond the substantial table that took up most of the free space, back towards them, peering out of the large window to the horizon before her. One of her hands was up against the glass, fingertip skimming the surface, tracing out the grand cityscape, gliding over arching towers and spiralling domes.

For a moment, Amanda wanted to immortalize that image, even though she could not see the girls face. She simply looked so… _Peaceful._ Vulcan's hot sun was swathing her in rich amber hues, her shoulders were lax and loose, finger playing along the window pane. It was an image of tranquillity that Amanda doubted she would get to see again, at least for a little while. However, as soon as the door swished shut behind them, the tranquillity was gone. Her frame stiffened, her hand dropping as she craned her neck over her shoulder to spot her visitors.

"Are you my delegates?"

Her question went unanswered as Sarek nimbly plucked the rooms data padd from it's holder by the door, flicking through the most recent files that would hold the information of the girls visit. To have a private inquisition room, she must have already made a first statement, one imposing enough to have her be granted delegates and privacy. Spock stood guard by the door, stiff and unforgiving. And Amanda… Amanda didn't know what to say or do.

So many words, so many years, and yet, nothing would come to her mouth. This girl, this seventeen-year-old with emerald eyes, who looked to be in need of a good meal, it was her T'Harauk. Amanda knew it. _She_ _Knew it._ Sarek, who had not pulled out the gene tester he had in his pocket to test her DNA, also seemed to be of the same mind. Spock, her son, the gods knew what he was thinking, with his carven, blank face. Amanda hardly knew what she herself was thinking, let alone to have enough energy to decipher her sons strong Vulcan façade.

Thin. Weary. Tired. She looked so small then. This girl, her T'Harauk. Food. She needed food and drink. Amanda made her way over to the small side replicator squirrelled away in the corner of the room, ready for use should the inquisitions take longer than necessary, shakily dashing in some buttons with a quivering hand. She must be hungry, who knew how far she had travelled, for how long, through what conditions. The Plomeek soup was cool, bubbling and refreshing, yet filling. It would be a good start. With less grace than a Tar-kek bear, Amanda made it to the table in the middle of the room, pushing the large bowl towards the girl with an unsteady smile fluttering at her lips.

"Here you go."

T'Harauk fully turned towards them, her gaze flickering between Amanda, Sarek and Spock before she slid forward with hesitant steps. She was a graceful thing, steps sure and confident, yet small and slow, cautious, as if she was expecting to be attacked should she venture too near too fast. Amanda herself took a lone step backwards, just enough to give her enough room, to ensure she didn't feel trapped or cornered. This close, with Sarek and Spock beside her, she could tell while T'Harauk's features took on the classical Vulcan elegance and keenness, while she was the spit of Sarek in female form, T'Harauk had inherited her smaller height from Amanda.

For the longest moment, T'Harauk simply gazed down at the bowl. Then… Then she smiled, bright and hot like the sun outside and skirted in closer, unceremoniously dipping her hands into the broth and scrubbing. Amanda couldn't stop the choking guffaw that fought itself free from her throat. Sarek stalled on the data padd, Spock diverted his gaze almost immediately as her hands fell into the liquid and T'Harauk's gaze snapped towards her, freezing in her movement, eyes large and confused but innocently glinting.

"What? Is it rude to wash your hands too?"

Vulcan's were notoriously possessive of the sense of touch. They guarded their hands zealously. Fanatically almost. Of course, with well reasoning. It is why they mainly kept them clasped behind their back, why female Vulcans almost always wore a glove of some sort, why touch was not common amongst their people. Their hands were an intimate affair. Amanda herself had only ever seen two Vulcan's washing their hands. Sarek, in their private living quarters and Spock, when he was but a child himself. T'Harauk brazenly scrubbing… Well, it would have been similar to a human walking up to a stranger, stripping off till they were naked and then proceeding to washing themselves down with barbeque sauce all the while keeping eye contact with the stranger.

Amanda made a beeline for the replicator once more as Sarek joined his son in turning around, a soft hue of green blossoming against his face as Amanda gathered a towel, fresh Pomleek soup and a jug and bowl of water so T'Harauk could wash her hands off. Did she not know? She must have. Vulcans were a well-documented race, their customs publicly known. Then why? Had she never met a Vulcan before? Surely she had…

"Oh, no. Not at all. But this is broth. Food. We don't normally wash our hands in food. Neither do we normally wash them in public."

Amanda advised as she dropped the tray of fresh soup and washing utensils in front of the young girl. T'Harauk pulled her hands away from the bowl of soup as if it had burned her, her ears and cheeks flashing green, as she gazed down at them before skimming a glance to the backs of Sarek and Spock over to the bowl and Amanda's own blushing face. The situation hit home and she began to wash her hands off, rambling apologetically in such a human way. It was odd, disorientating, to see such an obvious Vulcan and yet hear someone who was clearly human.

"Sorry… I… Ummm… I'm still learning. I don't know much about Vulcans. I, uh, I don't know why I'm being kept here but if it's about that stall of... Fruit? I want to say fruit, that I knocked over, I promise, I'll pay for it. Wait... You're that woman I bumped into, aren't you? Well, if this is about that, if I've crossed some line or taboo in your... Our... Mine? In Vulcan culture, I really didn't mean to and I apologize. Surely I don't need to be locked in here for much longer?"

T'Harauk washed her hands off, dried them hurriedly, and folded the towel back up before placing it back onto the table, but she did not venture near the soup again. Only when the towel was back on the table and Amanda gave a subtle cough did Sarek or Spock turn around once more. There was another bout of silence, muggy, that settled over them as Sarek strolled forward, taking a seat at the table with an air of distinguished dignity that Amanda, no matter her efforts, could ever replicate. Virtually, as soon as Sarek had settled, T'Harauk turned severe, placid but still and cold.

"Look, it is imperative that I find a man-… A Vulcan called Spaalvan. I was informed he was working here in the human embassy."

Ah, she had also taken her fathers quick mind by the way she singled in on him with a shrewd sort of awareness. T'Harauk wanted things done, and rightly so, she had pin-pointed Sarek out to be the one to discuss such matters if they were to be resolved quickly. Sarek quickly glanced up from the padd before resuming his search.

"Spaalvan? The Chief of our external affairs with the Romulans in conjunction with the human representative. A very interesting Vulcan to wish to speak to, wouldn't you say?"

Amanda felt, at the mention of Romulans, a sharp, twisting pain in her chest. T'Harauk's silence malformed that twist into an aching grind. Did she know? Had she been with the Romulans all this time? What had they done to her child? That scar on her forehead, thick, white… The one on her hand that Amanda had spotted as she dried her hands, words carved and gnarled, _I will not tell lies…_ Amanda felt dizzy, sick, violent and melancholic. Why was she only seeing the scars now? The bruise on her jaw, the dark sage blemish underneath T'Harauk's eyes that screamed of sleepless nights? How could she have so wilfully and blissfully have missed them so?

The scrape of a chair rattled in the air of the room as Sarek gently slid the one besides him out, offering Amanda some stable ground to rebalance herself. A seat she gratefully took. From underneath the table, she felt the brush of a pinky finger skim the outer rim of her hand. Only then did she realize she had been clenching her hands into her own tunic so hard her fingers had turned numb and prickly. _Strength._ She needed to be strong. That was what Sarek was silently offering her, requesting of her.

First, they needed to get to the bottom of this, they needed to know what T'Harauk knew, if she knew anything, which she likely did if she was petitioning for an audience with the Vulcan in charge of dealing with Romulan attacks, espionage and scheming within Vulcan. She could do this. She would let Sarek ask his questions, she would listen, and when all was said and done… She would take her little girl home. Only, T'Harauk wasn't so little anymore, and she herself said she did not know of Vulcan and its customs…

"Harriet Potter, seventeen, Vulcan… It says on your padd that you are seeking asylum on Vulcan."

Sarek spoke with a calm, unchanging voice as he placed the padd down upon the table, lifting his eyes up to meet T'Harauk.

"Just Harry… My name's Harry and Yes."

The ache in Amanda's chest burned. T'Harauk wasn't so little, she knew not of her own heritage, and now she was not even T'Harauk, but Harry… This was her baby, her stolen child, and now, more than ever, she was a stranger. No. Not a stranger. Never a stranger. That was _her_ child. _Hers._ Time had passed and she had grown, but she was alive, and time would pass as it always did and Amanda would come to know her, as deeply as she knew Sarek, as irrevocably as Spock.

If she wanted to be known as Harry, Harry would she would be. If she wanted the moon, if only for Amanda to get to know her, to bring her home like she couldn't all those nights ago, where she belonged, then the moon she would have. T'Ha-… Harry's eyes slanted as she eyed Sarek up and down, before taking her own seat opposite them.

"You are Vulcan yourself. Claiming asylum is pointless. You already hold citizenship through your race. Additionally, why come to the _human_ embassy to claim such?"

It was clear to Amanda what Sarek was trying to figure out. Why had Harry come to humans rather than to go to Vulcans, to her own people. Harry leant back in her chair, nonchalantly shrugging.

"As I am sure you can tell, I did not grow up on Vulcan. I am not sure if I was even born here. I don't know your politics, your relations, your laws. Where I am from, you have to be born in a country, on their land, to be a citizen. I thought it prudent to seek asylum should the two be of similar predisposition."

Sarek did not miss a beat.

"That is an earth custom. You were raised on earth? This is why you have come to the human embassy, to transfer over your citizenship to Vulcan. However, as I previously stated, this is redundant. You already hold citizenship from your birth as a Vulcan."

Harry's mannerisms, her accent, her expressive, lively face. Harry had grown up on earth. Amanda didn't know whether this made her feel worse or better. Most humans were kind, they were a rich race, poverty had been eradicated. If Harry found earth as her home, her life would not have been as horrific as the alternative of Romulus. However, it was earth. Amanda's home world. Surely, she should have known, she should have thought to check earth in all these years, well, check deeper than she already had. She was her mother, she should have felt it in her gut, where were her instincts? Had she failed further? No. She couldn't think of that now. Harry was alive and relatively well, Amanda simply had to keep reminding herself of that. Now they had what they never had before, a chance. An opportunity Amanda would not relinquish.

"Well, now I know. Thank you for saving me a hell of a lot of paperwork and time. But please, I have to speak to Spaalvan-"

Sarek cut Harry off.

"Of Romulans? It also states on your data pad that you have claimed abduction by Romulans. This is the crux of why you are seeking asylum, yes? You are fearful of further attacks by Romulans?"

Harry scrubbed at her eyes, wincing, and all Amanda wanted to do was to take her into her arms, to feel a heartbeat there. But she couldn't, not right now. Harry knew of Romulans, she knew of her abduction. Sarek was correct, if she was seeking asylum, she was obviously worried of being traced and followed. Amanda's gut sank. If she was worried of this, it meant that exact fear had come to pass already, otherwise she would not know to run or hide.

"Yes, no. No. I-… They won't come for me again, not directly, at least. And if they do, I can handle them. But I have family, I am sure I have family still alive. I need protection for them, wherever they may be. If I am Vulcan-"

This time it was Amanda that jammed her way into the conversation.

"This is your home. You _are_ Vulcan."

She knew of them, of her family, and yet, Harry could not see them sitting right in front of her. Amanda wanted to tell her, she wanted to scream it and laugh and cry, but the words wouldn't come. Amanda begged for them to, but they only soured her mouth and swelled her tongue to a useless lump of flesh. So many thoughts, so many feelings, too many. Too much. Amanda wanted to leave, she wanted to stay, she wanted everything and nothing and she could not settle on a single thing.

 _Look at me and see. See me. Your mother. See me. See. Me._

But Harry didn't.

"Because I _am_ Vulcan, I am sure they would be recorded somewhere here. If the… Romulans as you call them, come for me once more, I need to know they will be protected."

A strange noise rattled from Amanda's chest, something caught between a chuckle and a painful whine. Harry cut a look towards her, edged eyebrows pulling down in a worried frown, a hand she had placed on the table twitching as if she wanted to reach out and comfort Amanda, but stalled herself in time. She was trying to protect them. _Them._ It should be the other way around. They should be protecting _her._ They should have _always_ been protecting her and they hadn't. Amanda hadn't, and she could only feel that failure like glass shards stuck in her throat, choking her. Harry did not even know they were right in front of her, right there, within touching distance, and still, she was thinking of them. Sarek managed to say what Amanda could not, as he always did.

"By seeking asylum, you are alerting the government to your whereabouts and survival. This is the sort of information that is easily leaked. Information that can spread to the very Romulans you are sure are coming for you. However, you do not care for that, do you? In fact, I believe it is what you want. That way, if the information is leaked, if you do suffer further attacks, protection would already be in place for your family. In short, as a human would say, you are throwing yourself into the line of fire, in hopes of protecting people you cannot even name. Would it not have been more logical to stay hidden and safe?"

A dangerous sort of fire lit in Harry's eyes then. Scorching, angry, hurt.

"And leave my family unprotected while I cower? No. As I have said, they won't come directly for me again. They have tried and failed. They learn fast, but I learn faster. So, now that I am here, the next move would be to attack one of my family. They know it would draw me out and into the open and I won't have a family member attacked because I chose the more _logical_ path."

 _Again._ So, they had come for her. How many times? Had she escaped? Had she been on the run all this time? She could have gathered her accent from shipmates she grew up with. There were too many unanswered questions.

"You seem to care very much for family you have not met. You said you were abducted as an infant? So, you lack ties to these members, and yet, you wish to divert attention to yourself rather then them. Why?"

She exploded, jerking forward in her chair at Sarek's undaunting questions.

"Why? Why?"

Having spotted Amanda as a human, how could she not? Harry turned incredulously towards her.

"Are all Vulcans this detached?"

Before anyone could answer, the young girl was back to aiming her raising ire at Sarek.

"I may not know them, but they have my blood. They made me. They're my family. That's something to fight for, to protect! Where I am from, family means something. Something more than self-survival, logical choices and easy options!"

Harry's hands had slipped to the rim of the table, a crunching grind shattering out as her knuckles bled white and the table gave way under her strength, indenting around her hands. Shocked at the noise, Harry glanced down, hands shaking violently as she sharply pulled them away. She seemed ever so unsettled by her own reaction, eyes blinking frantically. Sarek's voice turned smooth, soft.

"It means a great deal to Vulcans too."

Again, Harry scrubbed at her eyes, this time with the heels of her palms as she balanced her elbows onto the table, sagging. Vulcans felt emotions fiercely, so very, very, deeply. Amanda could attest to that. She was sure it was why many of them chose to follow the path of Surak. It gave them discipline, helped them deal with their tumultuous emotions, to reign in their own tempers and to give them balance in a world and place that was so chaotic. Harry… Harry had none of that. Oh, Amanda could see it now. Rash decisions made on a whim, temper flaring as she had just witnessed, perhaps worse, sorrow so painful she would not speak of it, and Harry had never been taught how to handle those emotions. How to calm herself like only a Vulcan could.

But she would, Amanda realized as she watched Sarek, her husband, her love, who never touched anyone other than herself and son, gently reach over to their shaking daughter and tenderly wrap a hand around her arm, pulling the hand away, careful to avoid skin to skin contact. For a while, he kept the hand there, gentle, coaxing as Harry breathed in deeply through her nostrils.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate… I have had a very long, very hard journey. I just want to make sure that they are going to be safe, that you will protect them should the Romulans follow me. I just want them to be safe."

Amanda could see Sarek's hand tighten.

"I give you my word, they will be safe. However, you must be completely honest with me. Now, do you know why the Romulans abducted you?"

Sarek pulled away and Harry straightened in her chair, but her gaze fell to the floor.

"My mother is human."

Harry did not sound ashamed of the fact, no, she sounded proud, but she was holding something back, debating with herself, unsure whether she could tell them or not. Amanda, well, she could keenly hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears, her palms turning slick and clammy.

"Are you suggesting that your abduction is a case of hate crime?"

Was it because of Amanda? Had her daughter been taken from her because of her own race? Romulans hated Vulcans, that was no secret. Humans were not high up on a Romulans opinion either, but their utter distaste for Vulcans had always led Amanda to believe, at least subconsciously, that it had never really been a personal attack, but a message sent out to other Vulcans, a warning. Harry shook her head.

"No. Not at all. Look, I'm sorry… I don't know the full picture. There's things I don't know… It's complicated."

Sarek, in an act that her son, Spock, so often employed, cocked an eyebrow imperiously.

"I am sure I can understand complicated."

Amanda would swear you could see it, almost taste it, that inner war Harry was raging inside of herself when she dropped her gaze once more, nervously rubbing at her knuckles as she seemingly compressed within herself. Sarek, obviously seeing this too, gave Harry time, and only when it appeared that the girl would speak no longer did he go to question further, perhaps to change tactics, when she silently nodded to herself.

"I… Where I was… A long time ago, humans were not always so… Human."

Harry became animated then, the liveliest Amanda had yet to see her be. Her hands glided with her words, like a tide, ebbing and flowing, slinking over her seat, leaning closer, as if proximity would give weight to her words that had taken on a hushed, conspiratorial tone, like she was about to give them the answer to life itself.

"Not human in the terms as most people would know human to be, at least. There was more than one type, long ago. The others, the ones you know, I'm guessing they're pretty much the same as the ones from before. Muggle is what we… They… The other humans called them."

It was as if she was her own star, spinning and shining, pulling, creating a gravitational force that sucked them all in.

"And this other type of human?"

Amanda asked as Harry practically vibrated in her seat.

"They could… There's an energy inside of them. A force that allows their mind to, well, conjure things. Transform things. They were a powerful bunch, but they kept to the shadows in fear, paranoia and more than a heavy dose of prejudice against the other type of humans. Magic is what they called this force and they took the names of witches and wizards. I'm sure you won't find any files about them on your computers or your data padds."

"These witches and wizards, are they still around today?"

"No. Q… A being… No. From what I understand of things, there will be… Has been a war, a war that humans began, something about genetics, that decimated their numbers on both sides. Already having an infinitely smaller population than the 'normal' human, as it were, they would be, are, was nearly extinct after the war. Their kind, given the time that has passed, has bred, for lack of a better term, back into the genetic gene pool, their abilities melting into the DNA mix. Liquidizing. Lost. But the genetic code _survived_. Fragmented, but still there. Mother nature at its finest. Think of it… It's like a reboot button should they become close to extinction. The code is reabsorbed, redistributed back into the human populace, and once enough time has passed, when the danger has gone, when breeding has allowed the code to reestablish itself enough, to piece itself back together fully, well, witches and wizards begin to be reborn and the cycle begins again. Evolution, for witches and wizards, found a way around that bastard of Darwinism."

Amanda was not the only one to have picked up on her repeated tense switching by the grim line Sarek's mouth had become. Just a twitch, but it was there. As if she had been there herself, had seen it, lived it, breathed it and was now here and couldn't rightly decide whether she was in that time or this one. If what she was saying was true, and Amanda believed at least Harry believed it was by how open and innocent her face was, the twinkle in her eye, what would be the boundaries to such a race of people? Time travel, molecular engineering, atomic displacement, none of it was out of the equation.

"And how do the Romulans fit into this?"

Harry chuckled.

"I told you, my mother is human. Wizards and witches… The energy, their abilities, it's all in the blood. The DN-fucking-A. Written in their genetics. The certain code for this energy and abilities is normally found within the female line. For the genetic code to reestablish itself, it fragments between the two x chromosomes. Only when its whole, does it begin to transfer over to the Y chromosome, allowing wizards to be birthed. However, by then, there will already be witches born because they house the full genetic code to transfer that over to the Y chromosome. In this case, it's not the chicken or the egg, it's the bloody hen that comes first."

Her words were picking up speed, bleeding into one another.

"The code can lay dormant for decades, centuries, and then pop, out comes a witch. No one I know was quite sure why this happened, or does happen, but my own research is solid, and it doesn't change it. It's all in the blood. Seemingly human women, who have seemingly human families, can carry this genetic code, pass it along, and then one day, when the code is complete, hundreds of years later, their descendant can unlock that code. We called them muggleborns… My mother was and is human… A human who carried such a genetic code."

Amanda would not deign to be a geneticist, but to her, the reasoning sounded rigid. Sarek, however, appeared to have picked up on the overarching implication she was trying to make.

"Are you implying you have such abilities as these witches and wizards you speak of?"

Once again, she shrugged, but her grin turned cattish. Sleek.

"I don't imply. I declare it. Don't take my word for it… Just… Don't scream. They took my wand on arrival, but, well, we don't always need wands."

Harry leant back in her chair, spine stiff and as straight as a Ferengi's thirst for riches. Her eyes slid shut and her breaths became shallow and… Nothing happened. Perhaps they should call a doctor, have her checked over, she could have bumped her head and displacement-

Harry's eyes crinkled in concentration and the jug, bowl and towel on the table rattled before flying up into the air, swirling, dancing. The ceiling above them became clouded before dispersing to night… the night sky, stars and asteroids and all. As the jug crumpled in on itself, flaring hotly as it bubbled into a ball that burned yellow and orange. The towel folded and knotted until it too, became something round, with blue oceans and little green marks of land, wet and alive and a real, gods be damned, miniature version of earth. The bowl crushed and shrivelled to grey, rocky as it swerved to the little planet, spinning around and around as they too began to make a dance around the burning little star that had been a jug moments prior.

Then they spun upwards taking their place in the sky, and Amanda took in a jagged breath. Earth, Luna and Sol. Home. Then, as if that wasn't enough already, Amanda's feet left the ground of their own violation. She became weightless, nothing, a feather caught in the wind as she too began to float upwards, gravity broken. It was the first and only time she would ever hear Sarek gasp as he and Spock soon joined her flightless ascent. Soon, they were all amongst the stars.

None of this should be possible. The forcefields were up, dampening every known telekinetic, telepathic, psionic and energetic manipulation. Harry, as was law, had been stripped of all belongings, all technology before being allowed into the room. For the first time, Spock spoke, and even he, so poised and gracefully detached, could not fully conceal the edge and bite of wonder in his voice.

"Atomic manipulation… Actual atomic manipulation… sects of Human's could manipulate atoms… This changes many things."

Then they were gently being brought back down, the night sky, the stars, the asteroids whizzing around the room, the planet and moon and sun, like smoke, faded away, as if it had never been there.

"From what I've been told, they no longer can. I don't know why the gene activated in me, perhaps of the… Alien blood, but, it did and here we are."

Harry's eyes were back to being open, bright, unfazed by what she had just done. How could she seem so calm, so collected, when she had just singlehandedly rewritten all they knew, all the history of the human race itself?

"The Romulans?"

Even Sarek was finding trouble in regaining his composure if he could not elongate the question like he normally did.

"That's where things get murky. I don't know much, but I will tell you what I can. Somehow, someway, the… Romulans as you call them, the ones that took me and chased me, must have discovered some relic or file or something that led them to the discovery of witches and wizards. Those abilities, they are valuable, especially when or if they could replicate them within their own species. I don't know how, as I said, I don't have the full picture, but they tracked my mother's line. Perhaps created some device to find children, descendants capable of their ancestors and well, found me."

Amanda's voice sounded dry, harsh, like the wind on Vulcan.

"They took you to experiment and to replicate your abilities."

Harry nodded.

"Yes, but something went wrong. I was a babe, I don't know what happened, but something went horribly wrong aboard that ship. Something big and large and powerful enough to tear a rift in space and time itself. The ship, it fell… Backwards."

Spock intercepted his father.

"Backwards?"

Harry's gaze grew hazy, pupils large and lost, caught between memory and ghosts. It wasn't a pleasant place to be, not by the haunted shadow that flickered over her eyes.

"Back in time, to the year 1980 to be exact. They crashed on earth, in England. Some died in the crash, others must have survived. I was found in a mangled wreck of metal by a witch and wizard called Lily and James Potter. They took me in, raised me, for a year."

 _Harriet Potter._ She had been raised by humans, as one of them. A long time ago. So far, far away. Had she not known what she was? Did they know that she was not of that world? Amanda could not imagine growing up on Vulcan, before space travel, knowing physically, mentally, she was different, but never knowing why. How. Where she came from. If there was more of her or if she was simply a genetic oddity. Still, a certain word caught her attention.

"Only a year?"

Her smile was a sad, twisted little creature. All bruised blue and aching bone.

"They died. I… The wizarding world was in its own civil war. Many died, but they kept me as safe as they could. They adopted me, some weird, pointy eared, green-blooded baby they found in the woods in a broken metal contraption. They were good people. The best. After the war finished, the surviving Romulans must have spotted a chance to strike when I was least expecting it. They came at me full force. Hunted me down. I didn't know what they were. I didn't even know what I was. Aliens… No one had any idea that they even existed, let alone me being one…"

Seventeen. She was seventeen and was speaking of war and death and running. Worst of all, she wasn't finished.

"They were physically faster, stronger, than my friends. I… I was used to my own strength, my own speed, always three times more than others, and then they came, and they equalled me. They came so fast, so shockingly, with their technology that allowed them to apparate… Teleport, to break through our wards, to kill with a flash with little laser guns and there was no time to… I was forced to run, put into hiding, kept away from others when it was discovered they were after me and me alone. Eventually, they caught up and…"

Even as she spoke, Amanda wished she was wrong, prayed she was wrong, begged to anybody that would listen.

"They captured you."

Harry barricaded herself in, wrapping her arms around her chest, resolutely looking away from anything and anyone.

"It… I… I don't remember much of what they did, but I remember the needles, the iron bars in my spine. I remember screa-"

She violently jerked, as if she had been slapped, pulling away, nose crinkling as she cut herself off with a bite and a snarl at the memory.

"My friends came for me, helped me run, but they always tracked me down. Then a man, a being, an alien called Q came. He told us of what I really was. A… Vulcan. He said I had a family out there, in the future and that I would be safe if I made it back to Vulcan and claimed sanctuary. That my friends would be safe if I left. That the Romulans here could not touch me any longer and the ones back then, without me there, would die. He helped us build a device, one to send me back to where I came from, and here I am. Claiming sanctuary."

Spock, who had wandered in closer from the door, cocked his head to the side. An act that always reminded Amanda of a curious puppy, though she would never tell her son that, should he stop doing it all together.

"If there were other witches and wizards, why did they go for you still and not abduct another which would not see it coming?"

Harry chuckled, but it lacked all warmth, any humour. Frigid and desolate. Lost and alone.

"I honestly don't know. I don't know a lot of things."

Sarek, Amanda could not read him, not as he stood tall and walked around the table, over to Harry.

"You do realize we need evidence of such claims. Evidence further than what you have provided?"

Harry began to fiddle with her knuckles again, a tick Amanda was quickly becoming used to, as she glanced down and saw herself mirroring the girl. She was nervous. As Amanda was when she often did the same thing.

"I understand, but I have nothing but my word and magic. Witches and wizards, they keep little records and the little they kept, they wouldn't allow me to bring with me. In fact, they didn't want me to come at all, it was only my friends that helped me."

Sarek nodded, expecting as such.

"But you have your memories. There is a… Practice amongst our kind called a mind meld. It will allow me access to your memories, to your thoughts, to your feelings. In short, I will see your life, if you allow me access."

Harry became guarded then. That horrid shadow back in her eyes.

"And if I don't?"

Sarek would not be deterred and Amanda wanted to ask him to stop, to stop pushing, to look at what it was doing to their daughter, their daughter who had been through so much already.

"We need evidence of Romulans involvement and the claims you have made."

And then it all made sense. Yet again, you simply had to read between the lines. Sarek was not doubting Harry, no. He was out for blood, in an all too Vulcan fashion. He was going for the Romulans. He needed evidence, her memories through a mind meld being just that, indisputable, to take to the board of external affairs and the department of security. Then, with the situation unarguable, he could move against those who had moved against their daughter. Harry, though, did not understand, had never been around Vulcans before and could only hazard a guess of what Sarek wanted her memories for.

"It's not a pretty place. It's dark in there. My magic might make it even impossible to do."

Anew, Sarek's tone turned into a soft velvet Amanda had not heard since Harry herself was a babe, nestled in his arms, as he whispered to her about the stars, huddled on their balcony. It brought a flush of love and warmth through her, to know that voice was still there, that it had not died when Harry had been lost.

"You will not journey it alone and we need only try once."

Harry was still hesitant, but Amanda could see the cracks beginning to form in her argument.

"Will this grant me sanctuary?"

Sarek placed a hand upon her shoulder.

"You are a Vulcan, one of us, this planet is your home, you do not need to claim sanctuary. This act will only allow us to solidify your claims and to prosecute those perpetrators once uncovered. For they will be uncovered. Furthermore, if what you have stated is fact, perhaps there are others like you, others who need protection from Romulans. Protection we can only offer if we can make a strong case."

Harry gently shirked off his hand, cracked her neck as if she was going into a long fight, and stood tall, nodding jarringly. Once more, Amanda did not miss the fact that it was the mention of others possibly being in danger that got Harry to bend in the end.

"Others? Then do it."

Sarek's hand lifted, one finger stationed above Harry's right eye, over her scar, one below and the last ghosting along her jawline. She flinched for a moment but stood composed. There was a ripple in the air, something oppressive, heavy, settling on Amanda's chest and head, like an oncoming migraine. Sarek, as much as any Vulcan could, became alarmed.

"Don't push outwards!"

It was the wrong thing to say as Harry frowned and became alarmed herself, reacting in the opposite to the demand, the dense feeling in the air swirling as it sucked and pulled back into her, everything, from the replicator to the window crackling as the room felt like it was being pulled through a very fine point, condensed, compressed. Amanda lost something, everything, form and thought as the world around her became black and oily. Nowhere, nothing, never. She couldn't see, couldn't think, but she could feel.

She could feel Spock there, somewhere, Sarek too, and in the middle of this black mass, this bottomless void, she could feel her daughter, Harry, terrified and alone and lost. And then, like a supernova, it burst into life and Amanda was there, Spock and Sarek too, in her mind, in her memories. Them but not them. Being Harry, but not Harry. Her memories theirs, but not. Watching and living. All at once, everything and outsider.

 _There was a woman's scream, howling, as a flash of green blinded her._

 _Pop._

 _Aunt Petunia was at the stairs again, holding the cupboard door open, tapping her foot, red-faced and bird like. Uncle Vernon was dragging a seven-year-old Harry into the dark hole, by the scruff of her neck, huffing and puffing and she could smell his sweat, foul and rank. The vulture and the walrus._

" _What did I say about going outside girl! You stay in your cupboard! That's the rule! You stay there and you be silent and bloody thankful we don't sell you off! You just wait until tomorrow! I'll deal with you then."_

 _He threw her then, her knees scraping across the floor, skin breaking as she skidded into that place she hated so much. It was just another cut to Harry, just another bruise. It was the cupboard she hated. It was dark and dank and smelled of mould. The door to the cupboard was slammed shut behind her, the sound of the lock bringing tears to her eyes. She didn't dare move until she heard the sound of their steps retreating back upstairs, to their bedrooms. At least this time, she had not gotten a beating. Perhaps because it was late and Vernon had work in the morning. But still, even if the beating came tomorrow, it was worth her little midnight adventure out to the garden. Sniffling, Harry delved a hand into her tatty trousers back pocket, plucking out her stolen goods. A glow in the dark marker. She had nabbed it earlier, when Dudley wasn't looking._

 _Standing up, although even at seven, she could not stand fully if she did not wish to bump her head in the boxed cupboard, she uncapped the marker and set to work. Orion, Carina, Hydra, Lepus. One by one, she diligently dotted out the constellations she had been learning onto the ceiling of her cupboard._

 _When she was done, she capped the marker once more, hid it under her broken cot and sank back down onto the floor, looking up to the stars, wonky as they were, that glowed in the darkness. They could take her food. They could beat her. They could lock her away for days and pretend she didn't exist. They could call her freak and creature and goblin and bastard. They could do all this and more, but they could never, never take the stars from her. They didn't belong to anyone. They couldn't be wrangled into a cupboard. They didn't bleed or bruise or break. They didn't feel any pain. They were free. Alive. Bright. Out there, in the sky, where Harry wished to be, flying and spinning and dancing._

 _No one could ever take the stars from her._

 _Pop._

 _Harry's jaw and shoulder ached. The letters, the ones carried by the owls, they would not stop coming and Uncle Vernon was sure it was her that was the culprit. It wasn't. She didn't know why they came, who knew her, she wasn't allowed out most of the time, she wasn't allowed friends, although she had trouble making them anyway, and she sure as hell didn't know what this Hogwarts was. Still, they came, Harry took the brunt of her aunt and uncles anger and soon, was being whisked away to a cabin on a craggy island in the middle of the ocean. Then the giant man came. He was big and grizzly with a huge belly and beard and he scared even uncle Vernon and gave Dudley a pigs tail that made him oink. He gave her cake, a real present, her first ever gift and he smiled. He smiled at her and Harry nearly cried._

" _You're a witch Harry."_

 _Pop._

 _The Girl-Who-Lived. That's what they called her. Her parents didn't die in a car crash, a madman, a monster killed them, all because of her. No one had pointy ears. No one flushed green. Still odd. Still a freak. Something wrong. Prophecy, magic, dungeons and giant dogs. Hermione and Ron, her first friends. Flying on a broom, giant chess, the philosophers stone… The monster on the back of the mans head. Her parent's murderer, the burning of her scar._

" _The truth."_

 _Dumbledore sighed._

 _"It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."_

 _Pop._

 _Back to Hogwarts, not home, but closest she will ever get. Malfoy. Ginny. Knockturn alley. Flying Mr. Weasley's car. Whomping willow. Whispers. Everywhere whispers. Hissing. Going mad. Diary. Tom. Friend. But not friend. Never friend… Horcrux. Voldemort. Murderer! Ginny dying, basilisk, chamber of secrets, pain in her arm. Dying. Pheonix._

" _It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."_

 _Pop._

 _Aunt Marge ballooning, flying away. Run away. The knight bus, leaky cauldron. Ron, Hermione… Sirius black escaped. Sold out her parents. Coming for her. Dementors. Fear. Falling from her broomstick. Lupin. Werewolf. Snape. Forbidden forest. Shrieking shack. No. Pettigrew. Sirius innocent. Godfather. Family… She has family! He has to run. Hide. Ministry after him. Alone again. But she still has her stars._

" _Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light."_

 _Pop._

 _The goblet, her name. Veela's, mermaids, swimming, flying, dragon's breath scorching her skin. The skull in the sky, snake slithering out. Dark mark. Voldemort. Cedric. Maze. Running. Pinned. Monster. Touching her, taking her blood. Whole again. Fear. Undiluted fear. Still, fight. Cedric dead. Crying. Portkey._

" _It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be."_

 _Pop._

 _Voldemort rising. Ministry doing nothing. Muggleborns dying. War… War coming. Sirius's death. Pain. So much pain. Alone again. No family. Freak. Stars mean nothing. The ministry. Dumbledore. People, Dumbledore, telling her to be strong. To fight. No. Finished._

" _I DON'T CARE!"_

 _Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace._

 _"I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!"_

 _"You do care."_

 _Said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached._

 _"You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."_

 _Sobbing._

 _Pop._

 _Snape. Bastard. Invading her mind. Taunting her. Belittling her. Voldemort getting more powerful. No one can be trusted. Ministry infiltrated. Deatheaters everywhere. All on her. She has to stop him. She has to save them. Too young. Too weak. Fifteen… Only fifteen. How? No. Has to. Her job. Must protect them. Stop the war. Stop the bloodshed. Draco and his cupboard. Dumbledore's death. Order of the phoenix scattered. Snape… Traitor! Run. Run. Failed! Failed! Dear Merlin. Her fault. Her fault! Should… Can't win. Run. Flee. Hogwarts lost._

" _We'll be there, Harry,"_

 _Said Ron._

 _"What?"_

 _Harry asked incredulously._

 _"At your Aunt and Uncle's house, and then we'll go with you wherever you're going."_

 _"No-"_

 _Said Harry quickly; she hadn't counted on this, she had meant them to understand that she was undertaking the most dangerous journey alone._

 _"You said it once before…"_

 _said Hermione quickly._

 _"that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we? We're with you whatever happens."_

 _Pop._

 _Running. Hiding. Horcruxes, find them, destroy them, destroy Voldemort. Breaking into Gringotts. Camping. Arguments. Ron leaving. Malfoy manor. Hermione screaming. Locked in a cage. Stuck. Can't help. Useless. She was useless. Dobby! Freedom… No… No… No! Dying, holding him._

" _What a beautiful place to be with friends. Dobby is happy to be with his friend... Harry Potter..."_

 _Pop._

 _Remus. Gone. Tonks. Gone. Fred. Gone. So many. Too many. Her fault._

" _We're all human, aren't we? Every life is worth the same, and worth saving."_

 _Pop._

 _Makes sense. Born to die. Freak. Alone. Always meant to die… Horcrux. She's a Horcrux._

" _I'm going to keep going until I succeed — or die. Don't think I don't know how this must end. I've known it for years."_

 _Pop._

 _Peaceful. Scared, but peaceful. Resurrection stone cold in her hand._

" _Does it hurt?"_

 _The childish question had escaped Harry's lips before she could stop it._

 _"Dying? Not at all."_

 _Said Sirius._

 _"Quicker and easier than falling asleep."_

 _Stone dropped. Taunting. Harry smiles. It's time. Sleep. She is so very tired. She never raises her wand. A Flash of green._

 _Pop._

 _White station. That… Thing, grotesque, inside her, now out, dying, shrivelling. Dumbledore._

" _Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"_

 _Pop._

 _Breathing again. Fighting. Voldemort. Taunting, but she's stronger. He may have power. He may have knowledge… But she has love. Love wins. She knows that now. Soon, he does too, as he floats away in a pile of ash. Done… Won… Over._

 _Pop._

 _True peace, for a few months. Can't shake it. Something in the air. Feeling of being watched. Out for a walk, clearing head… Jumped. Strong. Fast. Ridged foreheads, tattoos… Like her, bleed green… Is she one of them? What are they? Managed to run. Get to friends. Tell them. Tests. Wrong blood. Not human. Not human at all. Something different… Alien…_

 _Pop._

 _Safe houses don't work. Somehow tracking her. Too dangerous to stay close to friends. Hermione and Ron won't listen. Never listen._

" _Stop playing the Martyr Harry. Where here, end of. You couldn't shake us off all those years ago, you aren't going to do it now… Alien blood or not."_

 _Pop._

 _Captured. Somewhere dark. Torture. Pain. Something metal, thick jammed into her spine, sucking, dizzy, screaming until she could scream no more. They only smile, they only stick more rods in. Ron's face… They came for her… They came._

 _Pop._

 _Q. Intergalactic being. Offer of family. She has some… Real ones. Out there… All she ever wanted, right there, In the stars she loved so much... But she will have to abandon all she has ever known… All those she loves… Romulans attack again, can't stay, can't bring herself to say goodbye. They urge her to go. To leave and she does… she does._

" _Those you love never really leave you, Harry."_

 _Pop._

 _Cryopod, dizzy, running. Flying. Stepping foot on Vulcan. Hot. Warm, for the first time in her life, warm, not cold. The buildings, the sand, the air, wonder, not watching where she is going. No one tells her where the embassy is… Sees human, looking peaky, no one doing anything… Help her. Smile. Pleasant face, warm eyes, soft heart. Good person. Harry can tell. Harry wanders if her family is kind. Has warm eyes and soft hearts. Hopes so… Hopes so._

 _Pop._

 _Found human embassy! Gave statement. Led to private room… People showing no emotions. Blank. Stern looking. Unforgiving. Worried. Put in room. Told to wait. Something happening. No one leaving, no one entering, see it from her window… Run. No. No more running. Door opens. Two men…Vulcans… A woman… Human… Kind woman!_

 _THUD!_

Amanda crashed back into herself, feeling empty, lost, muddled. Everything she had saw… Seventeen years' worth of memories… The pain, the loss, the death and destruction… The monster with a snake's face. Her baby… Her baby's death… She was weeping, sobbing, she couldn't stop. Spock fumbled by the door, leaning against the wall, breath sharp. Sarek braced himself against the table, eyes hooded, something wet glistening there. And then there was a voice, innocent, broken, but wishful.

"Mum?"

Amanda stubbornly blinked away her tears, gaze locking onto a pale faced Harry, her nose and mouth bloody, green blood dripping down her chin… The mind meld… It was a two-way shuttle lane. Only, T'Harauk had not simply melded with Sarek, somehow, most likely due to this energy inside of her, this magic, she had pulled both Spock and Amanda in too. That sort of pressure-

Harry collapsed, flopping to the floor as her chest heaved. Amanda launched herself at her, falling to her knees, scrambling to pick her up, to heave Harry onto her lap as violent tremors shook her body. Sarek was already shouting for a doctor before falling to the floor besides them, Spock dashing out of the room to find anybody to help.

"I'm home… I made it home…"

Harry spluttered as more foamed blood bubbled forth, smiling as her eyes glazed and she stilled. She wasn't breathing. No! It was happening all over again, she was on T'Paal canyon, holding her daughter only to lose her once more, to have her snatched from her grasp.

"No! T'Harauk! Come back! Hold on! Sarek! Please… T'Harauk!"

The sound of rushing footsteps bombarding into the room fell muted compared to Amanda's agonizing cries.

* * *

There it is, chapter three, and with it, my return to fanfic writing after a year or so gone. So, please, be gentle. It's a bit like riding a bike, you don't forget how, but the first ride is always a bit bumpy lol.

 **Next chapter- we have some solid Spock and Harry interaction.** I know he has taken a back seat so far… But not any longer.

I hope you all enjoyed this, and if you can, leave a review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four:**

 **What brothers are.**

Spock's P.O.V

T'Harauk looked incredibly child-like to Spock. Laying upon the sanatorium bed, draped in a loose medical shift, pallid and thin boned. As a child himself, eleven years old, when he had first been informed of his mother's pregnancy, he had been… Disinterested. Perhaps even a little inconvenienced by the whole ordeal. From his limited understanding of children at that current time, he knew them to be noisy, crying, selfish creatures. He had his studies to attend, duties to begin and a crying infant would have disrupted his well-organised routines. So, of course, as every studious Vulcan would, he had not been inclined to personally indulge in his mother's happiness, although he did nothing to hinder it.

However, the small babe his mother and father had brought back from the medical institute was anything but the creature he had self-informed himself about. She did not cry often, if at all, only when his mother or father would disrupt her own routine of viewing the stars each night. Most importantly, she had been a curious new-born, a personality trait even a young Spock could appreciate. She stared, watching, eyes large and unblinking, taking in as much of the world as she could. She would listen, aptly, if a child of her age could do such a thing, as if she was trying to soak up everything given to her. Sometimes, he would find himself reading to her, verbally going through his homework, as she laid in her crib, just to see her stare at him. Still, even then, in those first three days, he had not been… Fond, of the child. Tolerant, yes. Much more? No. Spock, at that age, did not know what brothers were. What they were for. What their role was.

Then his mother requested for him to hold her while she replicated some food for their morn meal, too busy with new motherhood to cook, and everything changed. There she was, a bald, green hued, pointy-eared, fleshy mass in his arms, wrapped safely in a thin blanket, staring up at him boldly. She had reached out then, enfolding her chubby little fingers around one of his own, tugged it closer and seemingly snuggled into the digit. He felt her, like an ember in his mind, soft and warm, curious and wonderous, safe and happy, and it clicked. Then it really came to him. He was a brother. This new-born, this child, was _his_ sister. His younger sister. He did not relinquish his hold on her until father came to him, stating T'Harauk needed feeding too and only mother could provide that, and even then, as soon as sustenance had been gained by both children, he demanded to hold her once more while his mother washed and took rest, mumbling about the new algorithms he was learning at school to the wide-eyed babe.

Staring at her now, on this hospital bed, weak and frail, he was reminded poignantly of that time. It was illogical for him to see that babe, especially when faced with her grown counterpart, but see her in his mind he could, as if it was yesterday and not seventeen years ago. Mother, who had been reluctantly convinced by Spock's father, was taking sleep in the room adjacent to T'Harauk's med room. Sarek had left shortly after, to speak to the doctors and healers, and Spock took up sentinel-ship at her bedside. Naturally, he could denote all this, his reaction, his memory exploration, to instinctual imperatives.

It was genetic, in a way, that family structures be as they were, older thinking of and looking after younger, so the generations could continue one's genetic line. As a Vulcan, even one such as himself, was not above 'pack survival' as it were. And yet, she was here, alive, and all Spock could focus on was what he had seen. Her own memories. Her life. Those should not fraction into what Spock was feeling if it was simply a case of genetic survival, for she was alive, and so, it left him confused on why exactly he couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen.

Like her adoptive aunt and uncle. Like her walking to her death, scared, alone, but resolute in her decision. Like how that decision of hers, to give her life for many who wished her dead, who did not even know her name… Unsettled him so. It seemed unjustifiable, irrational, entirely based on emotion… In fact, from what he had witnessed, this 'wizarding' world appeared to fall into those contexts too. No, his assumption was correct. This wizarding world was unproductive for a Vulcan. Furthermore, his sister had been detrimentally damaged, killed, scarred and hunted in this bygone world. Best she was far away from it now, in capable hands.

"I feel like mush…"

The voice from the bed croaked, as T'Harauk groaned and pulled herself to consciousness. Spock's gaze slipped from the window besides her bed, a large pane that allowed the inhabitants of the room to seem more open than the boxed walls let them be. From her bed, if she were to look, she could see the stars outside. Yes, a good room for T'Harauk to regain strength in. From the mind meld, he knew she would find the stars comforting.

"Your body is intact. Do not sit up."

Spock ordered as he saw her try and heave herself up, only for her arms to violently shake under the pressure, and to inevitably give as her head lolled on the pillow, a breathy groan creaking from her lungs. Turning his attention to her bed display, seeing her heart rate splutter in spikes of red and green on her graph, Spock used the settings to manually lift her bed, bending the frame until it was at an agreeable 45 degree angle, allowing her to sit, but not to strain herself and her weak body any further.

"What happened? Did I die again?"

She was having difficulty on holding onto her consciousness, he knew. The way she blinked, unfocused and weary, to the twitch of her brows, showed sleep was tugging hard, but she fought it back with a soft shake of her head, eliciting another groan. _Again._ An odd word, to be sure. Used in any other setting or situation, it would not have stalled Spock as it did then. However, it did. There was the time when she was barely one, when the human known as Lily had given her life to revive her own. There was the time when she had opposed that malformed, twisted creature that was intent on domination and her death. And now, there was here, in Vulcan, cradled in his mother's arms.

"We believe the energy inside of yourself, the energy you call magic, is in fact, more of a power source than an energy. A power source you and your kind draw upon to use your mental abilities, rather than the energy creating the mental abilities like you believe. When father mind melded with you, this… Battery, as it were, amped up what should have been an event between just you and he. When he told you to not push out and you reacted by pulling in, what originally should have simply been pulling him in, with this battery, allowed you to pull the remaining people in the room in too."

It was all fascinating, really, from a scientific stand-point. From the scans they had taken from her while she was unconscious, under polarized proton lens, this energy had become abundantly clear. It was like another nervous system ingrained inside of herself, concentrated around the head, eyes, hands, and heart, that over lapped her own, pulsed and squirmed with hot white power. None the less, as a brother and there-fore viewing it from that stance, it was less thrilling.

"Mind melds are taxing upon each participant, even to well trained Vulcans. To simultaneously meld with another two was extremely damaging. Your mind, and I am sure any other should they have been in your place, was stretched too far and too thinly. This resulted in your Katra fracturing, this power cell inside yourself expanding and becoming unstable, which ended with you having multiple aneurysms and a break and purge of Cerebrospinal fluid."

It was less thrilling because that power cell inside of T'Harauk had turned a traditional Vulcan practice to a mental explosion that had swelled her brain, burst her blood vessels and created an expulsion of her brain and spinal fluid. This posed many risks, not only presently. Was she in risk of the same reaction should she become over stimulated again? Was this a simple one-off case, or could it repeat? There were too many variables to feel at ease with, and further experimentation to find limits could result in a duplicate, in which Spock was not inclined to allow to happen.

"So… I did die? How am I still breathing?"

Additionally, her Katra, the energy inside of all Vulcans, the soul as many humans called it, that allowed them telepathic capacity, was in tatters. Literal tatters. Shredded. This… Killing curse of theirs, the wizards, Spock theorized, did not stop the heart or brain, but, as these other humans had proved to be of similar disposition of Vulcans, attacked and destroyed their energy, their power cell, their magic. Harry, as she liked to be called, had survived two of these, as well as a mind-meld burst. Moreover, this whole Horcrux matter, Spock believed, was like their own Katra depositing. This Voldemort, while Harry was a child and with her own Katra frail and growing, had implanted his own katra, or their version of it, into Harry, fracturing her own in order to make room for that shard of himself.

Even more worrying was the bonds Harry had so freely made with her Katra binding them. From what he had witnessed, she was… Free with her touch. Touch, as a Vulcan, that had instigated these bonds to form, tying Harry mentally to these people. People who were long dead in her own time, long dead in this time, leaving an open, weeping laceration upon her end. Without proper cleansing by their priests and healers to stem this energy and mental bleeding, if she had of stayed on earth in 1990s… She would have died within six months, perhaps eight, Spock would give.

"Father melded with you once more, implanting his own Katra within yours to hold the pieces together. It is not a long-term solution, but it should hold together long enough for you to begin the proper healing process with our priests. However, you were dying long before you came to Vulcan…"

All this within mind, Spock could not help but question this Q being he had seen and heard from T'Harauk's memories. Omniscient, trans-dimensional, physic manipulation… It was an impressive species. An impressive being that had ultimately saved his sister, for reasons unknown. The ID chip the being had programmed for T'Harauk to run and hide with stated her own name, her real one, counterproductive to someone who is trying to hide. It had set her up to come here, to her family, to the only people who could stop her on coming death, though she herself was blind to what was taking place. And with such power as it had, it could have very easily killed the remaining Romulans, if that was the real threat it had told Harry to run from. No. There was only one conclusion.

This Q wanted his sister to live, knew the only way for that to happen was to get her home and to her people, and knew his sister well enough to manipulate her into thinking running was her only option to protect those she had left, for she would not run for any other reason. For what reasons it did all this, why it had taken such interest in his sister… Spock was not sure. Peculiarly, he was only thankful it had brought her home. A chuckle brought him out of his pondering.

"Didn't you see? I'm always dying. It's sort of my thing."

Spock stepped closer to the bed and spoke more briskly then he had intended to.

"I find no humour in this statement."

Finally, Harry seemingly won her battle against sleep and rest as her eyes stayed open, her gaze turning to him, Sarek green locking onto Amanda brown.

"I'm sorry… It was a joke… A poor joke, but a joke all the same. I… You're my brother, aren't you?"

Then she said his name, his real name that he had only ever heard his father say, the pronunciation too strenuous to the human tongue.

"Many call me Spock. Do you remember much from the mind-meld?"

Harry swallowed and grimaced.

"No, as I said, I feel like mush. Not entirely myself, in truth. When I try and think of it, to that… It hurts, something in my mind snaps like a rubber band and I try not to push any deeper, should my head explode again. I remember little things, your name, a balcony, Amanda's favourite flower; Favinit. Sarek's blood type; T negative. Certain rooms and faces… Most of it doesn't make sense and is hazy, mixed with other things, memories."

Spock made the remaining way to her bed, sitting on the edge, by her thigh. Humans often found peace and comfort in proximity, and having been raised human, or as close to as Harry could be, Spock concluded she too might share that trait.

"Your assumption is correct. It is best to leave what you can remember as it is and to not try and recall anything else. Further damage might be inflicted if pressed."

Showing obvious signs of discomfort, whether it be to the pain she was in or the matter of conversation, Harry quickly changed the subject.

"Mother and father-… Sarek and Amanda… Mum-… Are they alright?"

The mind-meld had evidently created bonds, as they often did, bleeding his mother's and father's feelings into Harry, and yet, they were strangers to her, people she had not known about until a year ago. It left her unsettled on exactly who they were to her, what to call them, how to feel. She had spent her life an alien, an outsider, something strange and different, foreign, and now, when she had finally made it home, everything around her was the foreign thing, the alien presence. Yet, even in this situation, she was not thinking of herself, but of others. Spock did not know whether he found that irritating or engaging.

"Mother is sleeping in the room just beyond that door. Father is conversing with your healers to set up a satisfactory schedule and medical plan."

Her face became blank, devoid, and Spock almost immediately realised his mistake. From what he had seen within her mind, she loathed any sort of medical attention. From early childhood, due to neglect and abuse and fear of Harry being different being discovered, medical care had been denied to Harry by her aunt and uncle. Spock would estimate that this early deprivation led to a seed of distrust and avoidance within her. Due to her… Life, accidents, injuries and near-death experiences had been, Spock thought with displeasure, common occurrences, instigating an impulsive notion that she would continue to survive, with medical assistance or not. He was proven correct by the way she slowly inched deeper into her bed, pulling away.

"Medical plan? That sounds… Long and unnecessary. I'm alive. Done. No doctors needed."

Spock's head angled itself to the side a fraction, allowing him to adequately scan Harry up and down with an attentive gaze. Of course, his posture and face gave nothing away to what was happening inside of himself. Despite popular opinion, Vulcan's _did_ feel. They perhaps felt too sharply. It was why his people, their people, lent themselves to logic. Their emotions were chaotic, irrational, unpredictable, more-so than any human, and left unchecked led to very dangerous, very problematic telepaths.

Of course, there were some sects of Vulcan's out there who strived to completely eradicate all emotion within themselves, but they were few and far between. No, most Vulcans strove onto the path of logic to make order out of the chaos that was always swirling inside of them, to gain control over their own identity and to lessen the inner war most faced on a daily basis. It gave them jurisdiction over themselves. Nonetheless, just because they strived to be disciplined enough to understand their emotions and to control them into suitable reactions in situations, to become fully self-aware, did not mean they didn't feel them all the same. T'Harauk's own life was testament to all this. She felt and she felt strongly.

"I do not believe you have fully grasped that you are Vulcan, or the situation you are in."

Harry grinned, teeth white and smile cutting, but with no sense of malice, sarcasm or disdain in view. She meant well, she was simply uninformed, due to no fault of her own.

"Pointy ears, green blood, sensitive touch. I think I get that well enough. Give me a cup of tea and I'll be right as rain within an hour or two, just watch."

No. No she wouldn't. Without Katra therapy, in which his father was trying to arrange right this moment, the bleed out within her would continue and she would soon die. Even with the therapy, it would be a long and arduous journey to full health for Harry. Painful too. Perhaps it could take months, even years before her own Katra was significantly healed enough. Mayhap it would always be a little bit fractured. What that… Creature had done to her, the process of being a Horcrux, even Spock was not sure that could fully be reversed or healed. But they _would_ try, and Harry _would_ live.

"A cup of tea will not heal your Katra. Being a Vulcan is more than physical attributes. Your touch is more than sensitive. It binds us, telepathically, to those we hold or feel, and you have been free with your hands. Binds that, due to loss and war and the implementation of another's soul into your very being, your Katra, have been severed and have left you weak and vulnerable. You are malnourished. Your body is littered with old wounds and scars from battle that need attending. T'Harauk… You are dying. Without proper care or healing, you will leave this world shortly. A resolution I do not wish to see. A conclusion I will _not_ see come to pass."

She blinked and then diverted her gaze down to her hands laying prone in her lap, fingers trembling just a mote. She inspected them, searched them, weary and adrift, as if they were not her own hands, but someone else's.

"I have a lot to learn, don't I? About what I am. About Vulcans…"

Her voice was haunting. Cold. Straying. Childlike and indelible. Like a frozen asteroid left to span the endless universe by itself. Then, in a reversal of all those years ago, Spock reached out, gently placing palm against her own free hand, feeling it tremble. Then he felt _her_ , and despite her growing, her features maturing, her size extending, she was exactly as that babe had been. Warm. A spark of undiluted and unfiltered life, bright and shining. Most remarkably, despite the life she had led, the death she had weathered, the loss she had endured, she still held that burning ember of curiosity, that almost innocent glow of wonder about the world around herself. That optimistic, transcendental core belief that given time, given effort, given hope and love, things would work out in the end.

"Your family will teach you. _I_ will teach you."

She turned away from him, gaze turning to the stars shining outside her window, but her hand flipped, fingers interlocking around his, squeezing tightly.

"Back on earth, I loved my stars. They were always there for me. They never asked me for anything. Never needed words, but they never left me, even to the very end, they were there. I look out now… And I don't recognize a single one."

It was not just a matter of stars and constellations to Harry, Spock knew that much. It was… The shift. Everything she had ever known, all that could have been, her home, her planet, everything, down to the littlest detail, had changed. Expanded. Altered. Become unrecognizable. Even herself, the truth of her heritage, her Vulcan blood, had been recent to her and she had had no time in coming to terms with this discovery before the Romulans had attacked. Could she adapt? Who was to say. Only Harry could accomplish that. However, she would not try alone. Not while he still had his voice and mind.

"It is all about perspective T'Harauk. Perhaps you have lost those old stars, but you have gained a new night sky to learn of. You see those three there?"

Deftly, keeping one hand upon T'Harauk's to seep in comfort, security and calmness to her, he used his free hand to point out towards the sky. Harry frowned.

"The ones that look like a squished ball?"

Spock nodded and let his hand fall, turning back to look at her.

"The three on the left end, they are Orion's belt from Vulcan's position of the sky."

This time, the smile reached her eyes, turning foggy, confused moss into excited and energized dilithium green.

"Really? That's Orion's belt? What about those ones there, that look like a spoon?"

Spock did not need to regard the sky outside to know of the stars she was questioning.

"That is the Skar-desh constellation. The one next to it, resembling a bowl, is Skar-ven. The Klingons have a unique mythos established about those two constellations consisting of…"

And that was how Amanda found the two a few hours later, sleep still crusting upon her eyelashes as she blearily stumbled into the room, pausing in the doorway at the scene before her. Spock, her brilliant son, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed, hands unfurled together, Harry, sallow and ashen, but sleepily smiling up to her brother as he told her of the stars. It brought tears to her eyes and a flutter to her heart as Spock heard the sound of the door and glanced over his shoulder, Harry's eyes flickering to her, as a twitch, just the tiniest curl upwards danced across Spock's mouth and Harry beamed a grin.

* * *

… _One week later…_

Spock's P.O.V

The sound of the med rooms door opening and closing alerted Spock to his father's arrival. His mother and Harry were currently with their healing priests over at ShiKahr temple, Harry undergoing her first cycle of Katra therapy. No doubt, she will be tired and sore when she arrived back, and so, to ease the work load upon his mother and father, Spock had taken to cleaning out the room, tidying and making the bed. The mundane, thoughtless tasks simultaneously helped him to focus his mind on other pursuits. From his continued discussions with his sister, Spock had learnt many things, namely her… Impediment when it came to grasp new subjects. Her language skills were underwhelming. Her mathematical abilities nearly none existent and she held little regard for any of the founding sciences, although she had showed an exuberant interest in the medical field and alien physiology and care. Of course, she had been trying, but her efforts were fruitless.

The problem here was, if she was to ever fully integrate into this time, to find mindful employment in something she enjoyed, she would need to get a good grounding in all of these subjects to make a career. Currently, Harry had shown proficiency in one subject alone, navigation, but even then, she flooded those with theoretical and illogical jumps of, what she called, _gut intuition._ Baseless and redundant… Even if she begrudgingly got the majority of the questions right. The sound of his father's voice pulled him away from his thoughts as Sarek lifted the data padd left discarded on the table besides Harry's med bed, flicking through.

"I did not know you were undertaking the chief helmsman tests, Spock. Are you planning a transfer from the science division in Starfleet?"

Spock straightened his spine and turned to face his father, hands folding behind his back as he brought his gaze down to the padd in Sarek's hands. It was the padd he had given to Harry on their first night, so she could read and learn while they slept, or she found herself idle and in need of mental stimulation. Spock, himself, found when he took ill, as rare as it was, mental exercises were the best remedy, and hoped Harry would find the same results.

"I have done no such thing father. Nor do I have any future plans to do so."

Sarek cocked a brow and held out the padd for Spock to take.

"Then why have you been completing the simulations?"

Spock frowned.

"The simulations?"

He muttered as he took the padd from Sarek. Connecting the padd to the display on the bedside table, Spock searched through the data given. His father had been correct, someone had been going through the simulations for the helmsman exam in Starfleet. They had already completed four of the five tests, all with high, nearly perfect scores. The only marks down given had been attributed to _unknown_ or _unaproved Starfleet_ manoeuvres. Even then, the person who had completed the simulations would have, if they were the real exam, passed with stellar scores. Confused, Spock stood once more to speak to his father when the door to the med room opened once more.

His mother, wheeling Harry in on a hover chair, likely his sister was too weak from therapy to stand or walk, greeted them with a warm smile and a quick hello. Spock did not miss the slight twinge in the corners of her eye, nor the forced upward twist of her lips. Harry's first therapy session had been more intense then expected, slow with progress. Before Spock could question the exact nature of the therapy session, Harry spotted the lit display near her bed, the padd open on controls and began to wheel herself over, grin lighting up her tight and pained face.

"Hey, don't delete my file! I've nearly made it to the last level of that game."

Before any intervention could be had, Harry had pressed down on the simulation five button, turning the padd into a ships control panel and the display into the ships view and was aptly flying a Starfleet vessel. The Klingon birds of prey were upon her immediately, unforgivingly, and yet, she was gracefully dipping and diving, skirting, almost playing with the other vessels, taunting.

"Game?"

Spock asked as he saw the simulation order flash on screen. _Evade and rendezvous with Starfleet at Gagarin IV. Do not engage with Klingons._ Harry scanned the message before she set in a navigational prompt, taking off, swerving, spinning. Not a single Klingon photon skimming the hull of her ship. Then… Then she looked up at him, over her shoulder, still flying, dancing as it were, without her gaze on the simulation. And still, she evaded.

"Game, simulation, same thing, isn't it?"

The simulation caught her attention once more as a bird of prey began to advance on her, and she, in retaliation, dropped the ship down, killed her engines and chuckled as the Klingon ship flew overhead, to close to the planet Harry had taken towards, falling into its gravitational well. Before the others caught up, she set the ship into warp six and was off once more, using manoeuvres Spock had never seen in action before. Fascinating. Sarek spoke up from behind them.

"Who taught you to use these controls?"

Harry shrugged as she lost three of the four remaining Klingon ships.

"Spock told me the basics, and then I found this game. It isn't that complicated once you realize that impulse and warp are like gear and pedal. Plus, I love flying. I've been flying since I was eleven. It's in my blood. Given, a ship is different from a broom, but the fundamentals are the same. 12.57 steradian manoeuvrability. Agility being paramount. You just have to believe you are the broom, you are the ship and bam… Yes! Get in there!"

The last Klingon ship had been dissuaded from following by the asteroid field Harry had taken the ship through, before she shifted into warp eight and pulled up along Gagarin IV's orbit, the screen fading to a simple message of _Pass_ , before listing her score. Perfect. Spock resolutely denied that this flying was… In her blood, as she said, genetics played no part in piloting ability, but she did have a gift, that was undeniable.

"Perhaps I should inquire about a personal piloting tutor for you."

Spock agreed with his father. However, this interesting revelation was pushed back when Harry broke off into a wet bout of coughing, wheezing and tremors. The Katra therapy had taken more of Harry's reserves then she had displayed, and that was worrying indeed. Amanda pushed through, gently tugging Harry from her chair.

"You are not well. You need to rest Harry. You shouldn't be doing simulations, not in your condition."

Harry leant heavily against their mother, arm wrapping around her shoulders as Amanda led her to the bed, only a few steps away, but the journey somehow seemed longer than possible as Spock watched her tremble and fight to get her legs to cooperate with her mind.

"I'm fine, don't worry."

Even to Spock, it was evident she had said this more for their mothers benefit than herself, as she slid onto the bed, only wincing when Amanda turned to fetch a blanket and Sarek stalked to the replicator to bring Harry a much-needed drink. Even Harry could not be so self-unaware as to believe she was _fine._ So, why lie? Did she believe their mother and father were unintelligent enough to not see what he did?

"Spock?"

Spock crossed the distance between them, peering down. Her gaze was foggy once more, dark green dusting under her eyes, lips pale and dry.

"What are Klingons again?"

And then he realised. She was not unaware, nor did she think their parents were less than intelligent. Distraction. She was searching for a distraction, for all of them, to take their minds away from the obvious pain she was in. He knew so because he had already told Harry about Klingons the first night, when discussing the constellations, and by now, he knew enough of his sister to realise she didn't let information slip from her mind easily. If she was trying to ease their tension, to pull their minds away from the harsh truth of Harry's condition, he could take her own mind away from the pain she was in, if but for a little while. It was the least, as a brother, he could do.

"You know of Klingons already. I thought to inform you of the Andorian race today. I believe you would like them, they deplore dishonesty and have-…"

It worked. Before ten minutes had passed, she was comfortable enough to drift off to slumber, exhausted and pallid, but sound.

* * *

… _Two weeks later…_

Spock's P.O.V

Spock hit the disconnect button on his comm device, ending his call to his Starfleet Academy superior. Harry and his mother and father were back in the med room behind him, Spock having taken privacy in the hall for his call. Harry was recovering at an acceptable, but slow pace. She had stayed conscious today for a total of eight hours and seven minutes. Her longest yet. She, too, was beginning to move unaided, taking to walking the length of her med room before taking rest. It was an arduous process, but she _was_ recovering.

However, she was far from fully healthy, and that was what troubled Spock. His leave of absence from the Starfleet Academy had come to an end a week prior, and although he had pushed back returning a further week, his superiors would not wait much longer. He had lectures to attend, classes to hold, students to pass or fail. He could not abandon his work for much longer and yet… And yet he refused to leave his sister until he was sure she was adequately well enough. Which, as of yet, he had not witnessed. In short, his superiors had given him a further week, insufficient time Spock knew, and then demanded he return to the academy.

"I assume you are being requested back to your post on Earth soon?"

Sarek drawled as he stepped out of the room, giving Spock the barest of glances inside to see both Harry and his mother sleeping before the door slid shut. Spock nodded.

"I have already been absent longer than acceptable. I am taking my leave three days next."

Since his joining of Starfleet, this had been the longest his father and himself had kept close company. Perhaps even the longest they had spoken too. It was not that he did not care for his father, Spock kept up to date with Sarek's accomplishments, his career record, his diplomatic negotiations. However, their relationship was not one of ease or understanding, not since Spock had chosen Starfleet over the Vulcan science academy.

"Four days is tolerable."

Spock felt a twinge in his chest, unamiable and unpleasant. He had the distinct feeling he was being dismissed. Nonetheless, he would not be easily disregarded. Not when it came to his sister.

"I will request mother to comm me with updates on T'Harauk's health and as soon as acceptable, I shall return to Vulcan once more to visit her."

Sarek frowned, just a slither, a slight crinkle at the joint of his arching brows, but Spock saw it all the same.

"There is no need."

As half human, Spock had always had more difficulty in replicating his father's Vulcan restraint. And it was in this moment, that he found it tested almost brutally, as his jaw clenched, and he stiffened. He counted to ten mentally, evened his breathing and tried to hold on to all his Surak teachings.

"She is my sister father, as much as you may… Disagree with my life choices, you cannot disagree with this fact. I wish to know her progress and-"

That slight fold in Sarek's brows eased as something flickered in his eyes. On any other person, on a human, Spock would have called it guilt or remorse, but this was his father.

"I only say there is no need because you will witness the progress for yourself. Me and your mother have decided to come with you. To go to Earth. As ambassador between Vulcan and Earth, my work can travel with me. Your mother has applied and been accepted to teach a few xenolinguistic lectures at the Starfleet institute you currently work in, and the private tutor I have managed to assign to T'Harauk for piloting is stationed there too, while he is on leave. Four days is acceptable because it will give me and your mother enough time to ready our belongings and settle our affairs here temporarily."

Spock, for the first time in a very, very, very long time, felt unsettled. Unseated. Confused.

"You are coming with me?"

Sarek blinked, and that was all Spock had to garner on any inner workings of his father.

"Yes, of course. It is only logical. While Vulcan is T'Harauk's home, and always will be, the familiarity of humans, along with their multi species population, allows some stability to T'Harauk that she cannot find here, while also allowing her to become accustomed to this new age she has found herself in."

Spock had not thought of it in such a way. Earth would hold just enough reminders to Harry to feel comfortable and stable, and yet enough changes had taken place for her to begin to adapt to this era and life.

"The Romulans-"

Sarek swiftly cut him off.

"Are not a problem. I am _dealing_ with them as we speak."

At the mention of the Romulans who had abducted Harry and perhaps still posed a threat, Sarek's voice betrayed him, taking on an edge of bite and frost that Spock had not heard before. However, he schooled himself back to impassiveness quickly enough for Spock to question whether he really heard that tone or not. And then, to further befuddle his son, Sarek placed a hand upon his shoulder, holding him steadily and surely.

"Spock… Son."

It had been years, perhaps back to his childhood days, since Sarek had called him son. There was a slight ache within his chest, a spasm or cramp. Had he strained his solar plexus? Spock did not remember doing any moves which could possibly result in an injury to the chest, and yet, it _hurt…_ In a very peculiar good way.

"I have been remiss in my duties."

Spock shook his head, trying to ignore that pleasant ache.

"You are a well-respected ambassador and diplomat to the federation. I do not understand."

Sarek's hand slipped from his shoulder as the older man nodded and straightened out, beginning to stroll down the hall, silently requesting Spock to accompany him. Which Spock did, with a quick glance to the med room to insure it was locked and safe.

"Yes, but not all duties come from work. You will learn this when you begin to establish a family of your own. I have not been the father I should have been. T'Harauk's arrival home… What I saw in her mind… It has made me see our time is precious and best not waisted, for we do not know what will come tomorrow."

The pace was slow and easy, but Spock's mind was in disarray, disorientated, whirling.

"I repeat, I do not understand. Mother is happy, my career is well and T'Harauk is recovering-"

Sarek abruptly stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Spock.

"When was the last time we conversed Spock, before T'Harauk's arrival home?"

Spock did not need to recall much further into his mind.

"The previous year, when I came to our annual familial gathering of mourning Harry's abduction."

Now that he had spoken the words, he realised just how far he and his father had drifted. Of course, Spock comm'd his mother each week, for he was sure she would hunt him down and demand to know why he didn't love her enough to ease her worried mind, but with his father, it had been different. It had been different for a long while. Sarek carried on walking.

"A family should not operate in such a way. _I_ , as _your_ father, should not conduct myself in such a manner. This is not a family dynamic I wish for T'Harauk to acclimatize herself to. It is not a family structure I wish for any of us to keep. I will admit, Spock, your selection of joining Starfleet over the Vulcan science academy seemed illogical to me. I believed, originally, that you would realize your mistake and revert your path back. But I was _wrong_ to ever believe or hope for you to do such a thing. I should not have let your choices and my own confusion over such choices affect our relationship. I, unwillingly, have lost many years with my daughter, and willingly, have lost time with you. I cannot regain those years back, but I can ensure that it does not repeat itself. Our family has been fractured for too long. I will not allow it to continue."

Sarek's voice dropped.

"T'Harauk is weak and unwell."

Spock came to a stop, forcing Sarek to mirror him.

"The healers have assured mother Harry is healing. Have they been keeping information away?"

Sarek glanced away.

"Yes, her body is healing satisfactorily, however…"

Sarek made his way to a window in the hallway, peering out to the cityscape below. Spock did not move, too focused on the discussion and subject at hand.

"You saw what I saw Spock. She has never assimilated to humans, not fully, and I doubt she ever will. She is not one of them. Furthermore, she will have great difficulty in accustoming herself to our culture and ways, she is too emotionally run to let go and follow only logic. Her energy, her magic as it were, is ran by emotions, controlled by emotions. Here we find the problem. She is too alien to be human, and too human to be Vulcan, and something else entirely to be either. She must find a balance. Something to bridge this human, witch and Vulcan nature she holds. What she has lived through has left scars, not just physically. Her Katra flares widely, untamed and broken. She has trouble controlling herself. She feels deeply and does not try and control those feelings. She trusts too easily, and she has felt loss many could not begin to imagine. She is brash, headstrong, and hot tempered, and yet, she is emotionally detached from many things, composed and reclusive."

Sarek began to walk back to the med room, Spock trailing behind him, listening.

"She is alone. Perhaps the last of her kind. That is a heavy burden on such young shoulders. Amanda is human. I am Vulcan. Both of us can understand parts of her, but never the whole. I fear you will be the only one who can fully understand her. To understand the struggle of coming to terms with what and who you are. You who can help heal those wounds unseen. To teach her how to navigate the two worlds in which the two of you are born into. To help her find that balance she so surely needs to find."

They made it back to the room, but before Sarek could scan his ID chip and enter, Spock stalled him with his own hand on Sarek's forearm, bringing Sarek's gaze to his own steady and determined one.

"I have no plans on abandoning her. _I am her brother._ "

Spock was sure now, as sure as he ever could be, that there was a quick flash of a smile on Sarek's face. A glimpse. A shot. But it _had_ been there. Sarek scanned his chip and they both entered the dim room, but not before Sarek could speak for the final time.

"Good. Because she needs you now more than anyone else."

There was a rustle of blankets moving coming from the bed, and as if to emphasise Sarek's point, a sleep riddled, croaky voice echoed in the night air.

"Spock?"

Spock made his way over to Harry as she blinked to consciousness.

"I am here."

And he would be. Always. For that is what he would be. A constant. A helping hand. A guide. For that is what brothers are.

* * *

 **Next chapter- Do I… Yes.. No… Yes… I think I hear James Tiberius Kirk…**

* * *

 **Few notes on this chapter:**

From my calculations, which can be way off, (I study history, not maths dammit) Spock was born in 2230 and the beginning of Star Trek 2009 is in 2258. That makes him 28 at the beginning of the Star trek film, which this fic is set right before, and as Harry is 17, that gives them a total of eleven years difference. Quite a gap, but me and my oldest sister have a total of sixteen years difference (I'm the youngest of four children), so I think it's pretty plausible.

I've been battling with exactly what I wanted Harry to be good at in this fic. Of course, I'm trying to keep the characters as close to their original sources as possible, so I had to try and transfer what Harry Potter was good at into something that fit into the Star Trek verse. Looking at his grades, his top classes were care of magical creatures, defence against the dark arts, and if it had of been marked, he would have aced flying. I ruled out defence against the dark arts because while Harry could join the Security division, the way I have her now, she is sick of war and violence and given a choice, I just don't see her choosing that… And then I remembered Sulu! I adore him and wished he had a bigger role in the Star trek movie, and so, flying won out! I just really want to see tutor/teacher Sulu and a distracted, emotional Vulcan student… So sue me lol. So, expect to see our dear Sulu coming in quite heavily!

Writing from a Vulcan perspective turned out to be a lot, A LOT, harder than I originally believed. Lmao. I'm trying to keep the characters as close to their original counterparts as possible, but at the same time, from a written point of view, to draw empathy and sympathy to a character, you have to display their emotions in a plausible way that resonates with the reader… AND THESE ARE VULCANS, lmao. So, this chapter was a bit of a monster to get right, and I still don't feel like I captured Spock correctly, but I'm hoping he improves over time and I can nail his complex character.

* * *

 **THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS,** this chapter is for you! Really. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

If you can, please leave a review they fuel this fic :).


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N: (Important, please read)** I was originally going to have this chapter after the one I was supposed to post. However, reading it through, this one fit better here and so, I've swapped the two chapters over. So, Jim isn't in this chapter, but next one is entirely his P.O.V and where he and Harry will meet. This chapter does have some major plot pieces, as well as letting us check in on Harry's mental state and how she's feeling/coping with everything that is going on. I hope you enjoy this chapter either way!

* * *

 **Chapter Five:**

 **WWSD? A.K.A: What Would Spock Do?**

Harry's P.O.V

"Computer, restrict search to confined words such as school, castle, Scotland and hidden."

Harry was tired. Exhausted. Ailing. But she wouldn't stop. She couldn't. She and her family… She was still getting used to having such a thing as a _family,_ had arrived on earth a few days prior, and yet, Harry could not enjoy it as much as she thought she would. Everywhere she looked, everyone she saw, it reminded her of them. Hermione. Neville. Ron. Luna. The list was endless. Vulcan had been better. It had been alien, foreign, a different world. Harry could look out the window and not be reminded that she was, and could be, the last of her kind. The last of her kind who didn't exactly know why or how she became such a thing.

Harry, by nature, was curious. It was one of her redeeming qualities, but also a flaw. She didn't _do_ the unknown. It never sat well with her. She needed answers. Solid, safe, answers that kept the dread away. Only, the answers this time, if she ever managed to gain them, would and could never take that dread away. Being the last of anything, the last Potter, the last survivor, the last of her kind… It was a lonely place to be. Her rooms computer beeped at her, that monotone, uninflected voice piercing through the early morning air.

"No results found."

Harry sighed and flopped against the chair at her desk in her private chambers. She had been at this all night, digging, searching, looking for any scrap or evidence of her people in earths database, and all had turned up empty. She needed to sleep, she needed to rest and heal, her body and magic still wasn't running at a hundred percent, but she couldn't do that without knowing something, anything, of what had happened. She had a clue, all that Q would tell her back in the past, something about a genetic war. But that was all… And it wasn't enough. She knew the wizarding world had been decimated by it, but there had to have been survivors, there had to be for them to breed back into the human populace, to father her mother's ancestry line, to create her, here, now, with their abilities. But who survived? Had Ron survived? Had Hermione? Had George? She didn't know, and it was killing her more than that Vulcan head explosion thingy could ever do, _mind-meld_ , she corrected herself. More painfully than Tom had back in that forest.

"Search for Ministry of Magic."

Harry spoke to the ceiling. There had to be something. The wizarding world was brilliant at hiding, they had been doing it for millennia, but they weren't _perfect._ With the technological advancements of the muggles, that quickly rolling ball that wizards and witches had begun to fear and dodge, they had to have picked up on a clue that they weren't the only humans on earth. There had to be something, miniscule, but there, just a hint that Harry could track like a sniffer hound.

"No results found."

Harry winced and cracked her neck as she mindlessly chewed the inside of her cheek, lost in thought. Right. She needed perspective, she needed to look at this logically. That's what her brother, Spock would do, and he had plenty of answers. What would she have done? She is back in her old time, muggles were becoming more and more advanced, close to discovering them, and, as backdrop to this cat and mouse game, there was a genetic war about to happen. First off, what kind of genetic war? The term was ambiguous at best. Had the wizarding world been discovered? Was that the cause of the 'genetic' war? Muggle against magic? No, Harry didn't think so. If that was the case, they would have wiped each other out, no doubt. So, who started to play god? Who began to mess with genetics?

"Search for wizards and witches."

Harry would bet her money on the wizarding world. How could she not? The war she fought, Riddle's foundation blocks had been on blood purity and superiority. Perhaps another war had begun. This one not focused on civil disputes, but outside. Based on superiority over muggles and not just muggleborns. However, the same could be said for the muggles. Maybe the muggles found out about the wizarding world and, seeing what they saw, didn't like the advantage they had on their muggle counterparts. Maybe, just maybe, they wanted to even the playing field and it had stoked up a world-wide war.

"1 million, 215,000 and 452 results found."

Fuck. She was getting nowhere. Not in her searches and not in her theorizing. Circling. Cycles. Spirals and loops. She was just going around and around and around. Look at what she had accomplished so far. She had traversed time, flew amongst the stars, saw and witnessed things her people could never imagine… And ended up with her brain nearly imploding on her. She had found Vulcan, searched and accidently discovered her family… And had been taken back to earth. She had broken the statute of secrecy, outed herself as a witch, willingly, and Sarek, her father, had made her swear to not tell anyone else until he was sure her reception from the humans and Vulcans would be a pleasant one. Everything she had done and she felt like she was back at the starting point.

"Search records for the most common words used in these files and tell them back to me."

But, she would keep walking forward. Taking a step at a time. Slowly, but surely, she would make her way. Because, funny enough, that was what Spock would do. He was always telling her everything, from the discovery of a new sea mammal to the beginnings of starship travel began with a question, just one, the _right_ question. Harry new the answer, the wizarding world had become nearly extinct due to this 'genetic' war. Now, she needed to find the right question. She had the what, she had the when, she simply needed to find the who, why and how. Until she had those, she could not sleep soundly. The computer interrupted her sluggish, overtired thoughts once more.

"Pagan. King Arthur. Round table. Merlin. Cylindrical hats. Cauldrons. Myth-"

"Stop. Just stop."

Harry snapped as she stumbled to a stand, pushing the chair back as she scrubbed a harsh hand across her face, pacing back and forth. Her legs screamed in protest, burning and twisting, the joints in her leg braces creaking at the sudden movement. Harry loathed them, the leg braces, bars of light white metal that wrapped around her waist, down to her feat, pinning her legs into place, programmed to help her move, to give her balance. However, they were better than the hover chair, and for that, she was thankful.

The loss of spinal fluid had been a bit more problematic than originally believed. The expulsion of it, in conjunction with her collapse onto the floor, coupled with her magic flaring widely inside of her and this… fractured Katra too, had left her spinal cord damaged. Movement, walking, wiggling her toes… It was like she had to learn it all over again, as if she was nothing but a useless, dribbling babe once more. And that wasn't even taking into account the pain.

Without the programmed leg braces, she could perhaps take five steps unaided, on a good day, before collapsing or taking a head dive. With them, she had about one or two hours walking time, and thankfully, the braces dispersed pain medication into her system, numbing the teeth clenching pound to a background ache she could handle. The healers assured her that she would regain all motor function in time, if she were to be patient and do her therapy, but she was a Gryffindor and patience wasn't in her vocabulary.

Of course, magic could have healed her surely… If she knew a lick of healing magic. Unfortunately, she didn't. Her Hogwarts years had been spent learning defensive and offensive spells, magic made for war and battle, magic that would help her win against Voldemort. She _could_ experiment and try to form her own healing spells, but the memory of her boneless arm, flopping and gelatine like in professor Lockhart's hands nearly made her vomit. She would rather that didn't happen to her bloody spine. So, she was left with the alternative, to learn patience. Merlin, she thought she could hear Hermione laughing at her.

Hermione… Hermione would have known what to do. She would have known the right question. She knew everything. Only, she wasn't here and Harry felt that loss like a well-aimed slicing hex through her ribs. Focus. Harry needed to focus. That's what Spock would do. Right. Maybe she had come at this from the wrong angle. Perhaps she was thinking too much like a witch. She had concentrated too hard on the wizarding world. If she couldn't track what this genetic war was through finding the wizarding world… Maybe, just maybe, she could find the wizarding world and subsequently what happened to it through finding this genetic war.

"Okay computer, new search. Find records describing a genetic war between the years of 1990 and 2050 on earth."

Harry pulled herself back into her chair, using her hands to pick her legs up and move them onto the foot bar at the bottom of the stall, double checking the little screen at her waist that the braces were fully charged. The braces bent her legs while walking for her, but when sitting down, they sometimes jammed up, locking the limb too straight or angling it too high, and seen as Harry herself couldn't move her legs, they would end up stuck that way until someone found her and helped. Furthermore, as Spock would say, pacing would be illogical. Wasting her energy, her strength, would do no one any good, even if it felt right to pace, to physically show her frustrations.

"3000 results found under title; Eugenics war."

Her gaze snapped up to the dimly lit computer screen. Three thousand? Large enough to speak of a war that had nearly wiped out humanity, but still small enough to hold away ambiguity and mythology.

"Just three thousand?"

The computer took her incredulousness as a real question.

"Contemporary records and files of this time are heavily fragmented. No clear linear narrative to be extrapolated."

Fragmented. Harry's gut gave a lurch. Even the records had been beaten during this time. What did that say about this Eugenics war itself, if even the files had felt the bloody wrath of it? Too much for comfort, but there it was. -Genics… Genetics. War. Bad, by the sounds of it, in the right frame time too... For the moment, it was all Harry had to go on. For a heartbeat, just a split second, Harry was no longer sure she wanted to know. What could she do? It was over, done. What was the use of tracking ghosts and phantoms? It would bring her only pain. But she had to know. She owed Hermione and Ron that much, to know how their stories ended, to ensure, through her and her memory, they would never be forgotten, and in so, never really, truly dead or gone.

"Pin results. Within these records search for mentions of witches and wizards."

The computer answered her almost immediately.

"No results found."

Harry blinked.

"Search for Hogwarts and ministry of magic."

She frowned…

"No results found."

And she lost her temper.

"Merlin dammit! I'm just trying to find Hermione and Ron!"

Was she asking too fucking much? After all she had given to this bloody universe, if there really was some god up in the fucking clouds, was knowing how her friends died too much to ask for? Before she could stop herself, her hand lashed out, sweeping across her desk, sending an empty cup sailing across the room. In a way that was entirely unsatisfactory, the damn thing didn't break or shatter, only rolled across the floor. None of it, nothing felt right.

How could she be here, alive, breathing, content, when everything she knew was dust and bone? It felt _wrong_ to be happy. How could she smile, laugh or feel joy when her people were gone? How could she fully enjoy spending time with Spock, with her mother and father, knowing full well Ron wouldn't and couldn't do that with his own family anymore?

Amanda, with her constant smiles, soft hands and sparkling eyes as she asked if Harry was comfortable, if she was hungry, as she pulled the blanket up further when she thought Harry was sleeping, always pausing to stroke Harry's hair back, to hum a tune, made a pleasant ache strike up in Harry's chest. She made Harry feel comfortable, at peace, for the first time in her life. Sarek, when he listened to her endless questions, answering every single one, no matter how stupid or silly they seemed, when he brought her food, always goading her to eat more, to sleep more, to rest more, made Harry feel happy that, for once, she had someone who actually cared about how she was doing, how she was feeling. And Spock…

That long-legged encyclopaedia was the worst. He taught her the stars, gave them back to her constellation by constellation, taught her all she wanted to know, he fed into her curiosity, her wonder, her amazement and, in his own way, made her laugh and smile and feel truly happy for… Well, for a long, long time. Worst of all, for a moment, they, Amanda, Sarek and Spock made her forget that there had been anything else but this. Anyone else. And then, when she was alone, like tonight, it hit her. For a day, for an hour, she had forgotten about Ron and Hermione, of Hogwarts and her friends and she felt like a dirty _traitor._ And she couldn't forget. She couldn't. She couldn't forget Ron or Hermione. She couldn't forget the war or Riddle, or it made all the death, all the pain, all the loss, for nothing.

She knew it was silly, these feelings. It was wrong of her to feel this way. Hermione would have hit her for it. Her friends would want her to be happy. They would want her to enjoy this. They had given so much for her to be here, with her family, and here she was, moping like a pitiful brat. She was not doing right by anyone by feeling this way… But it didn't stop her feeling like she deserved none of this. If only she knew what happened to them. And now, faced with dead ends at every turn, she felt like if there was a god, he was in agreement with her, she didn't deserve closure.

"fifty results found with the name Hermione attached to file."

Or perhaps this supposed god wasn't in disagreement with her at all and she just needed the right question!

"Pin results!"

Harry lent forward in her seat, fingers tapping on the arm rest as her heartbeat took a misstep. It couldn't be… Surely?

"Computer, within previous records parameters, search for Hermione Jean Granger."

It felt like a life time before the computer answered her in that seemingly bored and dreary tone.

"Twenty-three results found."

Twenty-three, just twenty-three, out of all of earths database, but that was twenty-three answers Harry had not had until this point.

"Extract data given on Hermione Jean Granger and tell it back to me."

Harry practically vibrated in her seat.

"Dr Hermione Jean Granger. Five foot six. Blood type AB+. Doctor in medicine, specializing in genetic disorders. Age nineteen."

Harry's nose scrunched up. Medicine and genetics? What the hell had happened to her teacher training to become a Hogwarts professor? It had been all Hermione could talk about after the war. Had Harry accidently found another Hermione Jean Granger? No. A doctorate sounded right, her height and blood type too, her age as well… So what the fuck had happened to swerve Hermione, the most unmovable person Harry had ever known, to change career paths in what must have been only a few years max?

"Doctor at nineteen?... That's my Hermione alright. Computer, find the file that has this Dr Hermione Jean Granger recorded and is the least fragmented. Repeat the contents to me."

War had happened. In war, it was adapt or die, Harry knew that better than most. Still, the coincidence was not lost on Harry. A genetic war, Hermione specializing in genetic disorders, it was too big to be a coincidence.

"Dr Hermione Jean Granger of the Saint Mungo's institute arrived at compound four on the 23rd October 2001. Negotiation talks between Augments, Dr Granger and Dr Singh began at 1600 hours. Negotiation talks lasted two hours and thirty-seven minutes before diplomatic relations were interrupted by an explosion on the east side of the compound. Dr Granger was led-… Error. File too corrupted to continue."

St Mungo's… _Bingo_. There you are you slippery wizarding bastards. Harry knew they couldn't hide everything. It _was_ her Hermione. No doubt about that anymore. However, there were too many unknowns. What the hell was a compound? What was an Augment? Who was this Dr Singh? Why were there negotiation talks? And why the fuck had there been a terrorist attack at one? More importantly, what in Merlin's name was Hermione doing at a diplomatic negotiation?

"Did she survive the explosion?"

Hermione had to. There were another twenty-two files. Unless, they only documented up to that point and then one, Merlin forbid, was a death certificate. No. Never. Hermione wouldn't go out in such a way… She couldn't. Harry couldn't bring herself to believe it. Hermione would grow old, grey, sitting next to an equally old Ron, grandchildren scampering around their feet. Then why did it feel like she was telling herself fairy tales? Thinking up comfort lies to help herself sleep at night?

"Cannot compute question. Please try again."

There had to be more.

"For fuck sake computer, when was this file recorded? Are there others recorded with Hermione's name at a later date?"

This computers voice was worse than Snape's when he was degrading her in front of the Hogwarts student body.

"Records too fragmented. This is the last file with any mention to a Dr Hermione Jean Granger."

Stop. Breathe. Harry couldn't lose her temper at a computer of all things. It would change nothing. The last word of that document had been led, not died, and so, until then, Harry would take that as gospel. Hermione knew how to apparate, how to fight, how to defend herself. She had survived the second wizarding war, for Merlin's sake, a little bomb was not going to take her out of the great game of life. She got out of there. Nonetheless, Harry was never going to find out what had transpired after this if she didn't even know why it had happened in the first place, and so, she had to go back to the beginning. She needed to know about this eugenics war.

"Computer, tell me about this Eugenics war."

Harry knew the wizarding world like the back of her hand. She knew when they would act and when they would run. She knew who they would call friend and who they would call foe. After all, once upon a time, she had been undesirable number one, on the run, never caught. If she knew about this war, she could theorize on exactly where the wizarding world played their part in it, what role they played, and as of now, she already knew the outcome. Near extinction. Once she had a solid theory, she could look for clues, hints… Facts to back that theory up, or destroy it and she would start again. She, the ever emotional, hot-tempered Gryffindor had to look at this objectively, logically, almost detached, if she was ever going to find the truth. In short, she needed to act like the Vulcan she was, and not the human she had grown to be. The computer bleeped at her.

"Extracts taken from Starfleet's; Earth Histories, volume twenty-six. Page 344- 459."

Then the black screen lit up with a muzzled pop, a video beginning to play. The woman on screen was impeccably dressed in her red and black shirt, sitting at a table with her hands folded politely in front of her, blonde hair perfectly combed into a bun, a blank and queasy smile etching itself at home on her almost plastic face. Even her voice reminded Harry of something dead.

"The Eugenics war, as it came to be known, officially lasted between 1990 to 2005 in Terran's old calendar, although no casualties appeared before the year of 1999. The height of this civil war was between the years of 1999-2004. Due to the severity and barbarism of this war that nearly led Terrans to complete destruction, nearly plunging humanity into a new dark age, contemporary records and files are either fragmented or were completely destroyed during the war."

1999 to 2004? Harry had been there, right there, up until 1999, the year she left, and apparently, the year where the war came to a head. That sat to close to home. It couldn't be a coincidence that she left, that this alien being called Q magically appeared to send her 'home', a few fucking months before the real war kicked off. Furthermore, there had been no sign or hint of a muggle war on the horizon. Or, more disturbingly, Harry had been too blind, too swept up in the wizarding world and her own problems to have completely missed the heralding of destruction. If she missed the signs, if Hermione had missed the signs, others would have too, until it was all too late.

"It began in 1970, a sect of Terran geneticists began to endeavour to create superior human genetics by selective breeding and genetic manipulation. Products of such experiments became known as; Augments. At first, the results of their scientific intervention proved productive. Physical strength, cognitive abilities and sensory capabilities surpassed their non-altered Terran counterparts by 400%. However, unwittingly, this led to less than desirable traits being produced within the Augments."

1970… And none of them had any bloody idea of it? Not the minister of magic? Not the head of the Auror department? Not herself, who spent half the year in the muggle world? While the wizarding world had been swept up in its own god-complex of Tom and its pureblood elites, the muggle world had been crumbling under its own superiority fixation, and both worlds had been so insular and isolated, that the other never knew. Stop. Breathe. It's happened, Harry can't change that. She can, however, find the truth.

What would Spock do? Harry knew almost instinctually. He would break the information down, compartmentalize it into relevancy and later, piece the bits together to create a narrative line. Hermione would have done the same. First off, Harry now knew that the muggle world had faced a dilemma similar to that of its wizarding counterpart; superiority. Secondly, the Eugenics war had a longer history than expected, leading Harry to believe that most of it, all before 1999, had been kept secret, mainly from the rest of the populace, much like her own war against Tom had been hidden by the ministry until it was too late and war had been the only option. The only difference had been the wizarding world had tried to wipe out a third of its population to 'cleanse' itself, while the muggle world had 'manufactured higher beings' to elevate the rest of its population. Same problem, only, they had taken completely different roads to end in the same outcome; war.

Thirdly, she knew what Augments were now. They were genetically engineered muggles. By the sounds of it, a whole five times better than an average muggles capability. Hermione, in 2001, during the height of the Eugenics war, had been in negotiation talks with these beings. Negotiations for what, Harry didn't quite know yet. Finally, something went wrong with this Augments. The computer answered that riddle for her.

"Psychopathy became predominant in the Augments. Lack of social awareness, empathy and uncontrollable rage manifested itself within the children once they matured to adolescence, although no signs of these deficiencies showed while the Augments were in embryotic or infant state. Thirteen Compounds for the holding and observation of the Augments began to be used in 1986, and the general population of Terran was unaware of the happenings. Nonetheless, as the leading geneticist Dr. Khan Noonien Singh was quoted to say, superior ability breeds superior ambition."

Harry felt a splash of bile sting her throat. Augments weren't just genetically altered muggles… They had been birthed in a lab. Obviously, experimentation had been under-took, how could it not be? They created children, _children,_ experimented on them, and when they began to lash out, to break their chains, they had been locked up into _compounds_. Observed like lab rats. Prodded and told to run the great maze for a slice of cheese they would never get. To children… They had done this to children! And they had the nerve to wonder what went wrong?

 _Stop. Breathe. Countdown from ten._

Compartmentalize. What did she know now? In the 1970's, under the leadership of a geneticist called Dr Singh, the very same Hermione had visited in 2001, Harry would wager, muggles created Augments, a breed of genetically engineered muggles. In sight of them beginning to show signs of self-authority, fearing the obvious abilities they had, muggles began to round up these Augments from their respective labs and began to place them into compounds. Something happened, the war began somehow, someway, and in 2001, Hermione visited one of these compounds, a compound four, and took part in a negotiation talk, a talk that had ended in an explosion. Harry shook her head and sighed. There was still too many blank spaces, too many jumps.

"By 1999, the original embryos that had been genetically altered reached Adulthood and these ambitions became known. The Augments began to rebel and organise themselves. Fractions began to form within the compounds. As with most rudimentary pack instinct, leaders from these fractions began to form. By 2000, compound number six was destroyed by Terrans to quell further rebellion. Soon, compounds 9, 11 and 5 revolted, overthrowing their Terran overseers. Augments from these compounds began to infiltrate Terran politics, military and positions of power and within a year, land, money and weapons were filtered back to their Augmented parties. By 2001, newly weaponised, war between Augments and Terran's was declared."

And there was the blank spaces being filled with blood and bone and screams. Dr Singh and other geneticist created Augments. When they didn't develop in a way that was expected of them, they had been quarantined to compounds. However, they banded together, forming a hierarchy of some sort, with a leader emerging from each compound. Fearing the inevitable, muggles destroyed a compound, which to Harry, led to the other compounds uprisings. Compounds 9, 11, and 5 escaped their confines and infiltrated muggle power-houses, filtering back goods to their counterparts still trapped. When the time had been right, war was declared. And in the midst of all this, hidden in a smoke screen, was Harry's best friend, Hermione, who had been at such a compound, number four, negotiating something before that compound had been attacked.

So where did the wizarding world fit into all of this? Did the wizarding world align themselves with the humans, or the Augments? Or were they trying to sue for diplomacy, neutrality? Or did they help create them and try and clean up their mess when the Augments proved difficult to control? Hermione would do no such thing, not the girl who had rallied for house elf rights, for fuck sake. Harry's best guess, as of now with her limited knowledge, would be the wizarding world, seeing the muggles in a state of civil war, had done what they always tried to do. Keep out of sight and out of mind by declaring neutrality.

Yet, in this state, Harry didn't think neither the muggles or these Augments would allow the wizarding world to sit on the side lines. Not on this one, and from what Q had told her, the wizarding world had become involved, they got nearly wiped out because of it. But what would push the wizarding world out of its comforting state of sitting on the fence? The fall of the negotiations Hermione was in… It had to be. If Hermione had been there, trying to set up a treaty, and the compound had been attacked, negotiations stalled, likely by the muggles if the Augments were willing to sit at the table and hash it out with the wizarding world, then it wouldn't have sat well with Harry's people. If that was the case…

The wizarding world had aligned itself with the Augments plight, against the muggles, a feud that fed into thousands of years' worth of history between witches and wizards and muggles. Harry wasn't stupid, just because she won out against Voldemort, it didn't erase the millennia of fear and loathing the wizarding world had with muggles. That was a stain that could not be removed with a fifteen-year-old girls victory. The wizarding world, its prejudice against muggles… This war had given them the opportunity to unveil themselves, to strike while the iron was hot, to align with the Augments and to hit at the muggles.

"The Terrans quickly found themselves outmanned and outmanoeuvred. Parts of Asia, Africa and the America's became exclusively Augmented states, with Augments quickly sliding into a dictatorship structure. Leaders of the old compounds taking up roles of tyrants as Terrans were forced into slave labour, massacred or constricted to concentration camps. However, it was only when compound 4 in the old city of Paris ended with a Terran attempt at-"

Harry viciously pushed herself away from the computer, choking on the lump in her throat. No. No. Her people, the wizarding world wouldn't do that. Slave labour? Concentration camps? Surely, they would have no part in establishing such things? After the war they had faced? After all the deaths about blood superiority, they wouldn't jump straight into another war about the same fucking topic, would they? Harry had died to show they were all equal. She had given her childhood, her loved ones, over to a battle to show that everyone, from Tom to Dumbledore to the house-elves, were equal. They couldn't have forgotten that in the few bloody months between Harry's departure and this war kicking off. They wouldn't do that to her! They wouldn't twist everything she had given, lost, bled for into nothing. No. Harry refused to think anymore. She just wanted to know what happened to Hermione. Nothing else mattered.

"Stop recording! Computer, what happened to Compound 4 in the Eugenics war, 2001?"

The video shut down and that horrid voice was back.

"Compound 4, on the 23rd of October, 2001 was destroyed in a Terran insurgence operation."

She. Already. Knew. That.

"What happened to the people inside?"

"The Augments survived the attempt."

"What happened to the witch-… The humans inside?"

"Dr Singh died in the explosion. No further humans were inside at the time."

Stopping, breathing, nor counting to ten worked anymore. The armrest on her chair crunched and bent as Harry snarled.

"Hermione was!"

And through it all, even though she was halfway to losing every bit of composure, that damned computer didn't lift its voice once and it only managed to anger Harry further.

"Dr. Hermione Jean Granger is not listed as a Terran."

Not Terran? What the hell did it mean by that? Wait… If the wizarding world _did_ come out of the closet, if it really did align itself with the Augments, they wouldn't be called Terran, would they? They would have been sectioned off with the Augments. Human, but not Terran. Not one of us. Even so, if Hermione couldn't be traced because she wasn't classed as 'Terran', Harry could track these Augments from compound four. What happened to them could lead Harry to discover what happened to Hermione, and if she found out what happened to Hermione, she would find out what happened to Ron and everyone else.

"Computer, after the attack on compound four in 2001, what happened to the Augments?"

"The Augments, under the command of their leader, Khan, a progeny to the Augments creator, Dr Noonien Singh, took control of the European state, quickly followed by parts of the remaining Asia and the middle east. The Augments from compound four were the most relentless of their kind, taking control of more than a quarter of the earth. Augments from compound 4, when the eugenics war was won by Terrans, escaped."

They… They survived? Had Hermione been with them?

"Escaped?"

If they escaped, if they ran and hid, perhaps Hermione had been with them and survived this whole mess. What was it? Medicine and genetic disorders, that was what she specialized in. To an Augment, that would have been valuable.

"85 Augments, including Khan, retreated before the Terrans could capture them. Whereabouts and resolution unknown."

Perhaps the documents had been destroyed, or perhaps, they had survived the war.

"In conjunction with Khan, Dr Noonien Singh and compound four, is Dr Hermione Jean Granger recorded again?"

"A total of seven files found showing your specified requests."

Seven? Merlin, that number bloody haunted her. Seven Horcruxes and now seven files… What could possibly go wrong?

"Load them up."

For the first time, the computer screen flashed red.

"Please state your security code."

What?

"Security code?"

"Access denied. Please state your security code."

Access denied? Were the files locked? If so, what the hell was on those files for them to be locked out of public access?

"Computer, what is a security code and why do I need one to read the files?"

If they were locked… There was something in there that the higher ups didn't want the public to know. That only meant Harry had to get into those files even more.

"Access to files is strictly locked to level nine security."

Additionally, what ever was a security risk or needed hiding had something to do with Hermione. This time, she doubted it was a fragmented record or date.

"Who holds level nine security?"

How high up did this go?

"The board of admirals within Starfleet."

Fucking shit. From what little she knew of Starfleet, from the basics Spock had told her when she questioned his job, this board of admirals was of the highest tiers in Starfleet. Which also meant not many people were allowed to read the contents of this file, meaning whatever it contained was a well-kept secret, maybe even dangerous. Why keep so hush about a war that had happened over two-hundred, nearly three hundred years ago?

Whatever the reason was, it only meant she needed to get into those files. Something important was inside of them, Hermione's future… What happened to her friends, her people, was right there, five numbers and two letters away. Somehow, Harry needed to get her hands on an Admirals security code. The jingle of someone at her door pulled her away from war, lost people and death.

"Computer, save progress and pin the seven files relating to Dr Hermione Jean Granger, Augments and compound four to my devices. Instigate a personal lock. Clearance code… Godric Gryffindor."

"Transfer complete. Files and records locked and protected by code and voice lock."

"Computer, sleep."

Feeling stiff, drained, emotionally and mentally from her computer search, Harry wrangled herself to face the door in her desk chair, feeling the bars around her legs tighten their hold when she wobbled. With a quick bark of 'enter', her bedroom door swished, revealing a still bedraggled Amanda.

"Harry, are you okay? I heard talking."

Subconsciously, a smile flittered onto Harry's face as she stared at the older woman. Amanda was barefoot, loose tunic crumpled in places telling Harry she had just gotten out of bed. A bit of guilt stabbed Harry's stomach. She didn't mean to awaken anybody. Furthermore, speaking of anything she had found, her inner turmoil over what she had just discovered, turned to ash on her tongue. They had done so much for her, and continued to do so. They gave her a home, food, care… Love. In such a short amount of time, they had wormed their way into her heart. They were her _family._ She couldn't burden them anymore than she was already doing.

She couldn't lay this at their feet. No doubt, if Harry asked, Sarek would find her an Admirals code before she could blink, but she couldn't risk that. If the files were locked, it meant the higherups didn't want people poking their noses in. She couldn't let Sarek or Amanda face any repercussions because she couldn't fully let go of the past. So, Harry smiled sheepishly, scratching at the back of her head as she diverted her eyes to the floor. She couldn't burden them, but neither could she outrightly lie to them either.

"I was just doing some historical research."

Amanda stepped into the room, the door closing behind her as she made her way to Harry's low-rising bed, sitting on the edge, facing her.

"At four in the morning?"

Harry didn't need to lie.

"I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake anybody up…"

For a moment, Amanda searched her face, and although Harry couldn't bring herself to directly look at her, Harry could feel the heat of her gaze on the side of her face, trying to penetrate into her mind. Whatever she saw or found was enough for Amanda to try and change topics swiftly.

"Well, your father and Spock are already breaking fast. Why don't you join us and have some food? You have a long day ahead."

Well, that stalled Harry for a moment. She wasn't due either a Katra or physical therapy session until Wednesday and Saturday respectively. Today was Monday. Normally, she spent her free days with Sarek in the morning, before he left for work, when she would spend time with Amanda until Spock got home from his lectures and Harry turned her attention to pestering her older brother like a good younger sibling. Then the day would repeat, or Harry would fall unconscious.

"Long day?"

Amanda beamed at her.

"Sarek, while trying to find you a tutor for piloting has been talking to a few captains at the Starfleet academy. Your simulation results have garnered some… Curious people. One, a captain Pike, has taken a rather personal interest. He's already assigned you a tutor for piloting, a Mr Sulu if I'm not mistaken. He believes you might like Starfleet and what it has to offer. So much so, in fact, he has also delegated a final year student to show you around the academy today."

Harry would rather stay away from anyone who showed her _personal_ interest. Dumbledore had done the same, and, well, look how well that had panned out for Harry.

"Why can't Spock show me around? Doesn't he work there?"

Amanda slipped off her seat on Harry's bed, walking close and dropping down to squat in front of Harry and her chair, placing a calming palm on Harry's knee, although, through the braces, spine damage and pain medication, Harry couldn't actually feel the hand on her.

"Your brother has been asking the same thing. I think he feels a bit put out from it, but… The fact of the matter is, Harry, your test results weren't internal or private. Starfleet got a transmission of them, as with every exam simulation taken by external students. They believe you have talent. Talent they would rather see in their own ranks then outside them."

Dread sank Harry's gut.

"What if I don't want to join this Starfleet?"

Amanda didn't miss a beat.

"Then you won't. No one here will ever force you to be something you do not wish to be Harry. Neither I nor Sarek would allow that to happen. Your choices are your own to make, and no matter what, we will be standing behind you."

That warmed Harry's heart more than she could ever verbalize. She hadn't chosen to be the saviour of the wizarding world. She hadn't chosen to lead Dumbledore's army. She hadn't chosen to be Tom Riddles nemesis. Others had always chosen her life for her. They, Sarek, Amanda, Spock, gave her choices. It was odd, strange, otherworldly to Harry, to know she could make a choice, a decision those around her could full-heartedly disagree with, and still, they would have her back. After a short break for Harry to mull that over, Amanda carried on.

"However, looking around the place couldn't hurt, could it? Who knows, perhaps you may like the academy. Perhaps you could meet some people your own age, talk to others, make some friends. That would be nice wouldn't it? I know you feel lonely."

Once again, Harry diverted her face. She had believed she was doing a better job at hiding it, those feelings that plagued her at night, when she was alone, but evidently, she hadn't. She really didn't want to burden them anymore than she was already doing.

"It would be great mum. I could use the fresh air."

It was the first time, since before Harry had been trapped in that mind-meld, that she had willingly called Amanda mother, that she had verbally declared that familial bond on a conscious level and not just a slip of the tongue. The reaction was almost explosive. That little smile on Amanda's face split open like a ripe watermelon, teeth flashing as her eyes crinkled and glittered. With soft urging, Amanda helped Harry to a stand, keeping her steady as they clunked and clanged towards the door.

"Then it's settled. We'll eat, dress and head out together. Don't forget your gloves, it's colder on earth than Vulcan and you're still healing."

Never mind the gloves helped Harry stall the urge to touch everything and everyone, which, arguably, is what got her into this state in the first place. Thank Merlin no one was mentioning the hover chair, although, Harry still had to get passed Sarek. She would be lucky if he didn't demand she take a blanket and a personal healer with her too.

"Do I at least get to know the name of the student who I will have to follow around like a puppy?"

Amanda wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trailing her down and over to the kitchen and dining area. Harry double checked to make-sure her wand was strapped to her covered forearm.

"I believe his name is James T. Kirk."

Why did she have a bad feeling about this?

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 **Next Chapter: Jim thinks he's being punished for failing the Kobayashi Maru test, again, and so, has been left to supervise a potential Vulcan Student, calling in aid from his friend Leonard McCoy to help him… However, what greets him is not exactly a stone faced, logic driven, pointy-eared Vulcan and he and Bones are in for quite the shock. Especially when that Vulcan's first request is not to see the library or studying quarters… But to go to the local bar for a good pint of beer.**

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 **Few notes on this chapter:**

I had to juggle the timing of the Eugenics war a little for my plot to work and to meld Trek-verse with Potter-verse. The original war lasted between 1992-1996. In this, the war lasted between 1999-2004. If I had of left it alone, Harry would have still been fighting Voldemort and the Wizarding world would have been left out of the conflict entirely, which doesn't make much sense as it was a world war and logically, the wizarding world would have noticed what was happening outside of their little bubble. So, sorry for canon fans, but I hope you don't mind that I had to bend it a little to fit both the Trek-verse and Potter-verse together in a way that makes sense.

 **THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVELY REVIEWS!** Are you guys enjoying the ride so far? I sure hope you do as I'm having so much fun writing this up!

If you have a moment, drop a review!


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